The Road (Extras)
by dynamic-instability
Summary: Another set of extras: additional scenes written in canon with my story The Long and Winding Road. Please read that first! Updated periodically when I have ideas.
1. Intro

Hey hi hello!

For a long time I've had story I update occasionally with extras from the canon of my stories _Happy Birthday_ and _Lost and Found_ (and soon there will be a sequel as well). I really like having that extras story, because it gives me an opportunity to publish the pieces that come to me within that universe, without being one of those authors for whom every other one-shot they publish requires you to read a bunch of their chaptered stories.

A couple months ago, I wrote and published my story _The Long and Winding Road,_ and in the time since then, I've written three additional scenes (one set before, one set during, one set after) in canon with that story.

If the way the Happy Birthday extras have gone is any indication, there will be many more to come, but over the next couple of weeks I'll publish what I have.

You _do_ need to have read the story in order to understand these extras.

Enjoy!

–Kari

P.S. The extras, like the story itself, are rated M for a reason.


	2. One: Home

**A/N:** This is set pretty much immediately after the story ends.

* * *

Tommy collapsed back onto the pillows, breathing hard, his body boneless and heavy, his nerves live wires tingling with electricity. "Jesus," he laughed breathlessly. He looked over at Jude, lying beside him, her red hair disheveled, bangs sticking a little to sweat on her forehead. "That was…" he breathed, then trailed off, unable to find a word.

She turned to look at him with a grin. "Yeah." She laughed, too, then shut her eyes, reaching a hand up to run it through her hair, and let out a long, exhausted, contented sigh.

"You're amazing," he said softly. She opened her eyes again and looked at him, laughing. He rolled onto his side and kissed her bare shoulder, her collarbone, tasting the salt on her skin. "I'm serious," he murmured against her neck. He pulled up to look her in the eyes, trailing his fingers along her cheek. "The other night was kind of… intense, obviously, for other reasons, so I didn't say anything then, but seriously, girl… wow."

She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him, threading her fingers through the hair at the back of his head. She smiled against his lips and murmured, "You have always been wow."

"Don't get me wrong," he kissed her again before pulling back, "it was good, back then, but… I don't know. You're… different."

"It's been two years, Tommy," she reminded him. "I'm not 18 anymore. Two years of experience makes a difference."

All he said was "hmm," looking down at his fingers as he trailed them along her collarbone and feeling a surprisingly strong surge of jealousy at the reminder that Jude had spent her two years away from him hooking up with other people.

"Turns out," Jude continued, "that you spoiled me."

He laughed and met her eyes again, "What?"

She smiled. "Okay, you're a guy, so you won't know this, but as a woman it is _really hard_ to have decent sex with a man you've just met. Honestly. Especially if you add any alcohol into the situation at all, chances are pretty good the guy's not gonna give a _fuck_ whether you come. You either have to be okay with that, or you have to learn exactly what you want, and how to ask for it." Tommy raised his eyebrows, a little taken aback at hearing her speak so candidly. He reminded himself again that she wasn't that inexperienced girl anymore, and that he didn't want her to be. She continued, "Girls are a little better about it, in my experience," and Tommy's eyebrows shot up even farther. "Sadly," she said with a sigh, "I am still very straight." She noticed his face, and laughed. "Am I scandalizing you?"

"No," he said, a little defensively. "It's just… It's different, okay, give me a break." He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and trailed his fingers down her neck and across her collarbone to her shoulder. "Maybe I'm not sure how I feel about the idea of other people getting to touch you," he murmured, trailing his finger across her chest and tracing a circle around her nipple.

"Welcome to my world," Jude said dryly. He looked back at her, his gaze intense, and she laughed. "Don't give me that look, Tommy Q, you've still got me beat by a lot, number-wise."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You gonna make me a list?"

She laughed again. "You gonna give me an updated one?"

"Anything you want, Harrison." He leaned down and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her with him as he rolled over onto his back, so she was laying halfway on top of him.

"I still kind of can't believe you agreed to that list thing," Jude said when she broke the kiss and pulled back.

Tommy nodded. "I was trying to show you that I was all in, however I could. I knew you wanted me to be more open. I always knew that's what you needed, even if I didn't always succeed. You asked for a list, so I gave you a list. I wanted you to know that I was trying to always be honest with you, after the stuff that happened with Hunter. But I admit, I never thought the whole list thing was a great idea."

"I was insecure, can you blame me? I knew you loved me, I never doubted that part, it was just always so hard to figure out where I fit into your life. I thought maybe knowing as much as I could about the girls in your past would make that easier."

"Hey," he said softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "As far as I'm concerned, that list only has one name on it. You know that."

It was more or less what he had said after their first time, when Jude, still unable to fully shake her insecurity even as he pressed tender, reverent kisses to every inch of her skin he could reach, had asked him in a quiet voice if she had been good. He had turned her whole body into a firework, made her feel loved and cherished and wanted in a way she'd never experienced, and she had been unable to believe that he, with all of his experience, could have been as moved by her, that the experience had meant as much to him. He had laughed at the question, but it had been the look in his eyes, the catch in his voice as he said _it's all you_ , that had finally convinced her that for him it was just as real, just as special. Jude thought now of black marker block letters J-U-D-E across the list of names, and felt her heart squeeze. She leaned down and kissed him, but pulled back after a second, saying jokingly, "Which name? Is it 'girl in pink hat'?" He rolled his eyes and turned his face away with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, I knew it," she said. "It's always been her, huh?"

"God, you are such a smart ass," he complained, looking back at her. "Tell me in ten years if you still remember every name, then you can judge me."

She smiled and leaned down again, nuzzling his cheek with her nose before kissing him on the corner of the mouth. When she pulled up again to look at him, her expression was sincere. "The only thing I need to remember is that any list I made would start and end with you."

His expression softened and he put a hand on the back of her head, weaving his fingers into her hair and giving her a long, slow kiss. She pulled back after a few more short kisses, curling into his side and tucking her head into the crook of his neck. He kissed her hair and ran his fingers slowly up and down her back before softly saying "I love you."

She tilted her head up to look at him with a smile. "I love you too, Tommy." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled the blankets up over them as she curled into his side again. After a few minutes of lying there listening to his heart beating, she gave a hum and murmured, "I missed this."

"Me too," he agreed softly, stroking her hair. His arm tightened around her after a moment, and he said in a whisper so soft she had to strain to hear, "I really thought I'd lost you again. I thought…"

"Me too," she said honestly. "You told me to sign, and I… I was going to sign. I wasn't planning on coming back."

"But you did."

She looked up at him and smiled. "Yes, I did." He smiled too and kissed her forehead, then her hair as she laid her head back down on his chest and he pulled her snugly to his side again. After another minute Jude said, "I have to go back to London."

"What?" Tommy's voice was sharp, shocked and so hurt that Jude looked up at him in alarm.

"No, no, Tommy, I–"

His eyes were wide. "But you said you didn't sign, you said–"

"I didn't mean it like that, Tommy, slow down." She pushed herself up onto her elbow, putting a hand on his chest. "I'm moving here. I'm staying in Toronto, I turned down the contract in London. You're not getting rid of me that easy, okay?"

Tommy frowned, confused. "Then why–"

"I didn't mean it like that, I didn't mean for good. I just… It sort of hit me suddenly that I didn't really think this through."

"This? You and me?" He looked a little sad, and Jude shook her head and clarified quickly.

"No. Believe me, Tommy," she lifted her hand to the side of his face and stroked his cheek with her thumb, "this is _all_ I thought through. Being with you is all I've thought about for a very long time. I more meant… everything else."

"What else is there?" he asked. It wasn't a line, he looked genuinely confused, and Jude laughed.

"A lot else." She pushed herself up into a sitting position beside him, and he sat up too. "The thing is that I was planning to sign, planning to go back to London. I think even up to the morning of, that was really the plan. I'd gone back and forth a lot, but…" She shook her head. "Anyway, what matters is that I didn't sign. I couldn't do it, couldn't leave Toronto again. The truth is that this is home. Not just you, but Sadie and Jamie and Speid and a lot of things, really. So I turned down the contract, and I bought a plane ticket and packed a bag and I came straight here. But it was all impulse, I wasn't thinking straight." He raised his eyebrows and she clarified. "It was the right decision, and I'm not going back on it, I promise. But I had a life in London. I have a lease, for one thing, on an apartment full of my stuff." She shook her head. "And I have people, too. I made this huge life-changing decision but didn't tell anyone I was leaving. I called Sadie from the airport as I was boarding the plane. No one else knows."

Tommy laughed, disbelieving. "You're insane, you know that?"

"I've been told," Jude muttered.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "So you need to go back to London."

"Yeah," she sighed, leaning back into him. She turned to him, suddenly. "You should come with me."

He raised his eyebrows, surprised. "To London?"

"Yeah. I could show you the city, you could meet some of my friends… It would be fun. And besides, I… did have a life there, you know? I want you to see that. I want to share it with you."

He hesitated. "I mean, I'd love to, girl, but I do have a job, you know."

Jude pouted and Tommy smiled. She leaned in to kiss him. "Just tell Darius I've kidnapped you," she murmured, "I'm holding you against your will and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Somehow I don't think he'd believe that."

"Too bad, it's true," she said, decisively, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him again and said, "You're not allowed to leave. You have to stay here with me."

"Oh yeah?" Tommy laughed.

"Yes," she whispered, pulling him back down onto the pillows. He threaded his fingers through her hair and brought her mouth back to his. Even after so many years, even lying in his bed, skin on skin after having done so much more than kissing, his kisses alone were enough to make her dizzy, make her forget anything and everything except here and now and this. Him. Them. She was here in his arms and everything made sense again. When they broke apart, she said his name, breathlessly. "Tommy, let's never leave this bed."

He gave her a smile that filled her heart to bursting, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, trailing his fingers across her jaw and down her neck. "Anything you want, girl."

She grinned, laughed, brought his lips back to hers.

Home.


	3. Two: Open

**A/N:** This one is quite short, set between chapters 5 and 6. In Chapter 6, Jude says "He _talks_ to me, Sadie. He tells me things." This is a bit of that.

* * *

"So how is it, being back in Toronto?" Tommy asked as he popped off the cap on the beer bottle and handed it to her. "You've been here, what, a week now?"

Jude nodded as he sat down next to her with his own bottle. "Yeah, tomorrow makes a week. And it's… weird, you know? Being back. It's good, but it's strange."

"Just because you've been away for so long?" he asked.

"Maybe. But I think more because everything is so different. I drove past the house the other day, and there were these little tricycles sitting in the driveway, and I just thought, wow. I can't believe there's some other kid living in my bedroom, you know? And Sadie and Dad kept a lot of photos and a few things from when we were kids, but _so_ much got thrown out or given away."

"They didn't sell it on eBay?" Tommy joked. "I bet there'd be a lot of people willing to pay a small fortune for Jude Harrison's Barbie doll collection."

Jude grimaced. "Uh, yeah, a lot of _weirdos_ willing to pay. And anyway, I cut the heads off all my Barbies."

"Of course you did," Tommy laughed.

"But yeah, I don't know. I kind of feel like my childhood is gone. But Sadie pointed out that it _was_ sort of my choice not to come back to help sort through stuff when she decided to sell the house, so I guess I don't really have a right to complain about what she got rid of."

"You're staying with Sadie, right?"

"Yeah." Jude nodded. "Actually, that part's sort of weird too. I think she must have missed me, because she's been, like, _really_ nice to me."

"You expected classic Harrison sibling rivalry?" Tommy asked with a smile.

"No, it's not that, actually. I mean, by the time I moved to London Sadie and I had been getting along really well for a while. It's just… Okay so, she did my laundry the other day, and she actually made my bed for me. She makes me breakfast a lot of mornings, too, it's… I mean, it's really nice, but it's also sort of weird. I've been living on my own now for two years, it's just different having someone taking care of me again. It's a nice feeling, actually, but weird, you know?"

He looked at her for a long moment, then looked away, down at the bottle in his hand, picking at the label. He shook his head slightly. "I'm not sure I do." His voice was quiet. "I don't know if I've ever really felt that. Even when I was a kid, I… I don't know."

Jude was surprised at the openness of that statement. Tommy getting personal, talking about his past, had been nearly unprecedented even when they were together. Her heart squeezed. "How's your mom?" she asked, softly. He tensed, and she expected him to get angry, to turn to her and snap that it wasn't any of her business, so she quickly said, "Never mind, sorry. That's none of my business, I shouldn't have asked."

He looked over at her, his expression unreadable. "No, uh…" He took a deep breath and shook his head. "It's just, she, uh… she died, actually."

Her eyes widened. "Wait, seriously?" He nodded, and her heart twisted. "Oh, Tommy. When?"

"A few months after you left." He sighed.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

He rubbed a hand across his jaw, not looking at her. "Something called an abdominal aortic aneurism. Apparently it's hard to catch on time, especially in a nursing home. They didn't find out about it until it burst." He winced. "She died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital."

"I'm so sorry, Tommy."

He shrugged a little. "It's… I don't know. It's complicated. She was my mom, she was family, but she…" he shook his head and trailed off.

Jude remembered Tommy's mom screaming at him, hitting him in the chest and shouting that he was worthless. The thought of Tommy as a child, being yelled at like that, made her feel sick. "Yeah, I know," she said softly.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. "My brother… Tristan blames me. For putting her in that home. He, uh, told me not to come to the funeral. So I didn't."

"Oh, Tommy." Jude sighed again. "I'm so sorry." She reached out and took his hand, squeezing his fingers. "It's not your fault," she whispered. "Any of it."

He looked down at their hands for a moment, then over at her, meeting her eyes, and something in her chest tightened at the deep sadness she saw in his expression. She felt a sudden urge to reach out and kiss him, to take away the pain in his eyes. He looked for a moment as if he were about to say something, but instead he just squeezed her hand before letting go and looking away. He cleared his throat. "Can we, uh, can we talk about something else?" he asked. He gestured at her guitar, sitting in an arm chair across the room. "You wanted to work on lyrics, right?" he looked back at her and smiled.

She felt a little disoriented at the sudden end of the intense moment, but she nodded. "Oh, uh, sure, yeah." She set her beer on the coffee table and stood up from the couch to grab her guitar. When she had taken the instrument and her journal out of the case and returned to sit beside him, she said, "Hey, Tommy?" and he looked over at her. "Thank you," she said quietly. "For telling me."

His expression softened. _There's my look_ , she thought, her heart clenching. Tommy nodded. "Yeah. Of course, girl."

* * *

 **A/N:** idk why I apparently like killing Tommy's mom off. This is far from my favorite thing I've ever written, but it's kind of sweet, anyway. Your reviews, as always, are appreciated.


	4. Three: Lucas (1)

**A/N:** This is set before the story begins, probably a little over a month after Jude moves to London. It also contains what is arguably the most explicit sex scene I've ever published, so that's a thing. (That's not saying much, writing sex scenes makes me very uncomfortable so I don't do it very often)

* * *

"Aside from the tuning, it's really not too different from the guitar," Lucas said casually as he plucked out a melody on the mandolin. "Neck's smaller, obviously, so the angle's a bit different for the chords, but I think you'd pick it up quick." He held the instrument out to Jude. "Want to give it a try?"

She took it from his hands and held it. He leaned in close, gently adjusting the position of her wrist. She felt a tingle of electricity where his hand touched hers, and something in her chest squeezed. _Don't think of him,_ she thought, even as the memory flashed in her mind of Tommy with his arm around her at the lake, the fluttering in her 15-year-old chest. A lifetime ago.

She focused her attention firmly back on the instrument, the strange new feeling of the mandolin strings under her fingers. She strummed a few times. _You've gotta coax them out, gently._ She shook her head slightly against the memory and turned to look at Lucas. His eyes were blue, like hers _(like his)_ , but a darker color. Deep blue, his eyelashes long and dark. He had a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. She smiled. "It's a great sound, those doubled strings."

"Lovely, right?" he agreed with a smile. "Don't ever get a chance to play it in the studio, but I love it."

"Is this you trying to get me to write a song with a mandolin part you can record?" she joked. "Is that why you brought me here?"

He gave a laugh. "Well, I wouldn't complain."

She handed the mandolin back to him and he placed it back in its case and set it on the floor next to the couch. "When did you learn mandolin?" she asked.

"'Bout five years now, maybe?" he answered, looking back at her. He shrugged. "To be honest, I don't remember. There was a while when I was on a new instrument every week, and I think that's when I first picked up mandolin. I was playing anything I could get my hands on, but I couldn't commit to one for long. I was determined to learn to play everything, I think." He laughed. "A bit impractical of me, that ambition. Mandolin had staying power, though."

"How many instruments do you actually play?" she asked, surprised.

Lucas shrugged again. "Oh, dunno, haven't really counted."

Jude shook her head, looking at him in disbelief. "I hate you."

He laughed. "You don't mean that."

"No, I really do," she joked. "You come in as a drummer, then you show me up on guitar, now I find out you play so many different instruments you can't count them? I officially hate you."

"Well _that's_ a right shame," he said, leaning in close again, his voice suddenly low, "seeing as I think you're brilliant."

Her pulse quickened, and she bit her lip. _Don't think of him_.

"Jude," Lucas said her name softly. "Do you know how incredibly beautiful you look right now?"

His gaze was intense, and heat crept up her neck, muscles clenching in her belly. _Don't think of him_. "Lucas…" she breathed.

"I would very much like to kiss you," he whispered, his face only a few inches from hers.

She felt guilt twist in her stomach, the sensation that she was betraying something, someone. _Don't think of him_ , she told herself, firmly this time. _He's not yours anymore. You're not his_. _You're not anyone's._ She reached out a hand, placing it on the side of Lucas's face.

And she kissed him, his hand on the back of her neck. When she broke the kiss, her lips tingled and her heart was pounding. It was a _good_ kiss, one she'd been trying not to want since the day she first saw him play guitar, since he first gave her his crooked smile and complimented her song in his lilting Dublin accent. She opened her eyes to look at him, and he looked back with those deep blue eyes, his hand still on her neck. She whispered, "Lucas, I…" She hesitated for a moment, the desire warring in her with the irrational guilt. "I think I would like to do a lot more than kiss you."

His smile was slow and wide and brilliant, and he leaned forward to kiss her again.

She didn't think of him.

Lucas pulled her up from the little couch, too short for his tall frame. She pulled her shirt over her head and he did the same with his, wrapping his arms around her. His skin was warm against hers. He pulled her to his bed, really just a queen-sized mattress on the floor in the corner of his loft. It was a fairly big apartment for the center of London, but it had no walls save the ones around the tiny bathroom. He had no furniture other than the ratty love seat couch, the mattress, and a small chest of drawers. There was no table, no chairs, but there was an old baby grand piano in the center of the room, guitars and other instruments in cases and on stands lining the walls, a drum set, a djembe in the corner. When Jude had walked into the apartment, her first thought had been that Lucas really lived like a true musician. She laughed a little at the thought as she sat down on the edge of his mattress, pulling him down with her.

Lucas looked at her quizzically. "What?" he asked as he leaned forward, pushing her back so she was laying on the bed with him on top of her, carefully holding his weight so he wasn't crushing her. "What's funny?" He ran his fingers lightly along her collarbone, her shoulder, down her arm. She shivered at the touch.

"Nothing," she answered, entwining their fingers. "Your hands have even more callouses than mine."

"Is that bad?" he asked, pulling his hand out of hers to trail it down her ribs and across her stomach, the rough pads of his fingers raising goosebumps on her skin.

"No," she laughed breathlessly. She moved, pushing him so he was laying flat on the bed, and climbed on top of him, her fingers going quickly to the button of his jeans.

It was strange, having sex with someone else. Not bad, but very different. She was used to being with someone she knew, someone who knew her body almost better than she did. With Lucas there was more fumbling, more clumsiness, more awkwardness than she was used to. She tried not to compare…

She didn't think of him. She didn't think of him. She thought too much about not thinking of him, so she kissed Lucas fiercely, demanded _faster harder more_ and he complied. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, felt skin peel off under her nails. Lucas gave a grunt, but didn't complain.

And then sensation overwhelmed her determined willpower and she let him in, let herself think of him, picture his eyes, his lips, his hands, only for a few seconds. She cried out, came hard enough to see stars. Lucas panted "Wait, wait, fuck, not yet," and she clung to him, her fingers still woven through his hair, her other hand entwined with his where he pressed it into the pillows. He buried his face in her neck, gave a muffled moan, his grip on her hand tightening for a moment before he went still, collapsed with his full weight on her for a few heavy panting breaths before he pulled out of her and rolled off onto the bed beside her.

Cold air rushed in in his absence and she lay still, boneless, her head spinning. She stared up at the ceiling and thought of him murmuring "I love you" into her skin. Her chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat, a wave of grief filling her up as the aftershocks of the orgasm faded. Next to her, Lucas shifted, sat up, then stood, walking over to throw away the condom. She pulled the blanket up to her chest as tears filled her eyes and she tried to fight them back. "Bloody hell," Lucas laughed as he came back over to the bed. She glanced at him to see him looking over his shoulder at the scratches on his back. "You've really got some fingernails."

"Sorry," she said softly, her voice tight.

"Don't be," he laughed. "That was–" he cut off as he turned back to her, saw the tears on her cheeks. "Whoa," he said, concerned, sitting down on the bed. "You alright, Jude?"

She nodded. "I'm fine." But as she said the words, a sob forced its way from her throat.

"Whoa," he said again, looking freaked out now. "Are you… Really, do you need–"

"No, I'm okay," she insisted, even as she couldn't stop her crying. She sat up, put her head in her hands and tried to keep her breathing even.

Lucas reached out as if to put a hand on her back, but she let out another sob and he pulled it back before touching her. "Is there anything I can…"

She shook her head. "No, it's fine, I'm good, I'm okay."

"Do you, er… just always cry after, or…"

Jude let out a laugh at that, through her tears. "No," she answered, shaking her head. She thought of the last time, laying curled up with Tommy and sobbing into his chest until all her tears had been used up. He had cried too, though he'd tried to hide it from her. In the whole time she'd known him, she'd only seen him cry once before that, a few tears shed when he talked about Angie, and seeing him cry because of her had broken her heart. She pulled her knees up to her chest and let herself cry harder, giving in to it for a minute. Eventually she took a deep breath, her crying slowing.

"Not exactly an ego boost, that," Lucas said after a moment as her tears stopped. "It's… never really the goal, you know, to make a woman cry."

"Oh God, Lucas, no, it's not you," she insisted, sniffling and wiping her eyes with one hand. She reached over to put her other hand on his arm for a moment. "Seriously, you're great, you're… This was good. It was amazing, actually, I just… I promise, this isn't about you. I don't know where the crying came from, it's… It's complicated, I'm so sorry."

Lucas tilted his head, still looking concerned. "Complicated," he repeated slowly.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and took a deep breath, then said, "So I haven't…" she sighed. "This was the first time I, uh…"

"Oh." He sounded shocked, and she looked over at him. His eyes were wide. "Jesus, really? You were–"

"Oh, no," she cut him off, quickly, realizing his misunderstanding. "I didn't mean _first_ first time, no, I just…" she bit her lip, then decided to just say it. "Okay so I was, um… I was with someone. In Toronto. It was… we were…" She sighed. "Anyway, you're, uh, the first person I've been with since him." She didn't add that he was also the only person she'd been with _besides_ Tommy.

"Ah," Lucas sighed. "Yeah, I wondered."

"Wondered what?" she asked, surprised.

"If you'd just been through some sort of a bad split. You have the look about you."

"'The look'?" she quoted incredulously.

He shrugged. "You look sad when you think no one's watching. Like, sort of… wistful, I guess, nostalgic, but really sad. And the way you sing, sometimes, and certain lyrics. I didn't know, I just wondered."

She sighed, lay back on the pillows and shut her eyes for a long moment, then said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She looked up at him. He was sitting close now, leaning back on his arm and looking down at her. He looked concerned, and she felt a surge of guilt. "You're great, Lucas. I mean it, I really… I like you a lot, but I'm not ready for… I know I should be over him, I'm trying to be… But I'm not looking for a relationship right now. I just… I can't. I'm sorry."

To her surprise, he laughed. "Did I say that's what I wanted?"

She propped herself up on her elbows. "What?"

"Jude, love, you're wonderful, truly. You're an amazingly talented musician, you're funny, you're beautiful, but this wasn't…" He shook his head. "I'd like to get to know you better, and I'd love to keep making music together. I also certainly," he lowered his voice a little, trailing his eyes over her body for a moment before looking back to her face, "wouldn't object to doing this again, but I never said I was looking for a relationship."

"Oh." She found herself feeling embarrassed, and actually a little insulted, though she tried to push that irrational feeling away.

Lucas sighed, looking away. "Alright, honestly, I… I'm no stranger to bad breakups myself. I said you have the look? Well, there's a reason I recognized it."

"Oh. How long ago?" she asked, quietly.

"Nearly six months, now." He sighed again. "But we were together for almost three years before…" He shook his head. "It was… really, really bad."

"How bad?"

She half-expected he might get angry at the personal questions, but maybe she was just too used to Tommy's defensively private personality, because Lucas just laughed, a little darkly. "Bad enough I left Ireland. Not just my flat, not just Dublin, the whole fuckin' country."

"Shit."

He laughed again. "Yeah. Yeah, it was." He looked back down at her. "That wasn't why you came to London, though, was it, your breakup?"

She bit her lip and shook her head. "Sort of the other way around."

He gave her a sympathetic look. "An ocean away is a lot to try long distance."

"That's not exactly…" she started, but then she shook her head when she felt tears threatening again. "It was more complicated than that, but yeah. It is." She closed her eyes for another long moment, taking a deep breath before looking back at him. "Sounds like you had it worse, though."

He smiled wryly. "Yeah, probably. I would hope so, for your sake."

"What happened? If you don't mind me asking."

He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Caught her in bed with my brother."

"Oh, God," Jude said, appalled. "That's…"

"Yeah." He shook his head. "You know, the worst part of it is that I'll never get that image out of my fuckin' head, my fuckin' brother bollock naked, on top of…" He grimaced. "Anyway, she left me for him, and I left. Went as far as I could think to go. I got to London and tried busking for a while at first, you know, playing in the tube or wherever, which was actually really fun. Doesn't exactly pay the rent, though, and the money I had saved was gone fast, in this city. I was on the verge of selling some of my instruments so I could keep a roof over me when I got the job at Bermondsey." He looked thoughtful. "Really, I suppose I should thank the pair of them. This job's the best I've ever had. Playing music all day, working with amazing musicians." As he said that part, he glanced down at her with a smile. "My name's not on the albums, but that's not what matters. The music's what matters. London's brilliant, terrific music scene, I even got a deal on a baby grand last month." He gestured to the piano. "What more do you need?"

Jude smiled, impressed again by his dedication to the music, his talent, his sincerity. "So you're going to thank her?" she joked.

Lucas laughed loudly, throwing his head back. "No fuckin' way. Hope she burns in hell." He turned, laying back down next to her, his hands linked behind his head. "So anyway," he said after a moment, turning his head to look at her, "I've not been too interested in relationships myself, recently."

Jude bit her lip for a second, looking at him, then said, "So… what, then? What… are we?"

He smirked at her. "Have you ever been told you think too much?" She frowned, and he smiled. "Why label it? We make music, we go out and get plastered, sometimes I let you take half the skin off my back. What more do you need?"

Jude rolled her eyes. "I did not scratch you _that_ badly."

"You did!" He laughed, sitting up and showing her the red lines her nails had made on his back. "I think they might scar!"

"Oh, shut up," Jude said, sitting up and running her fingers gently over the slightly raised scratches. "Don't be a baby," she teased, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to one of his shoulder blades, "I barely even drew blood."

Lucas laughed again, and the sound made her smile. He turned to her and shook his head, "Oh, Jude Harrison," he said her name softly, smiling at her as he placed a hand on the side of her face, pulled her face towards his and kissed her, "you are trouble, aren't you?"

She laughed and pushed him back down onto the bed, leading down to kiss his collar bone, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. "Let's find out," she murmured in his ear.

Lucas's skin was warm, his skilled, calloused fingers gentle on her skin. He kissed her, and for once she didn't think of Tommy.

* * *

 **A/N:** So apparently I find this Jude/Lucas relationship a lot more compelling than I originally planned, because I've written like five of these in the last week, pretty much tracing the whole course of these two being together. It messes up the extras format a bit, but that's alright. I enjoyed writing them.


	5. Lucas (2)

**A/N:** Sorry this is a bit late. I had a very long final exam today.

This takes place a couple months after the last one, probably, I don't know, the timeline isn't really that important here.

* * *

Jude looked over as the door to the bathroom opened and Lucas came out. He ran a hand through his wet hair, humming to himself as he walked into the room. He was wearing nothing but a pair of old sweat pants, and she admired the way they hung low on his hips, watching as he bent down to pick up his binder of sheet music from on top of one of his guitar cases. When he straightened up, he glanced over at her and smiled when he saw her watching him, but he didn't say anything, just went to the piano and set the music on the stand. She lay there and listened to him play for a minute before grabbing his T-shirt from beside the bed and slipping it on, walking over to the piano and sitting down next to him. "What's this?" she asked.

"Something I'm recording tomorrow," Lucas answered, still playing. "Some visiting jazz artist. A lot of it's going to be improv, but I want to get a good idea of the themes before I get in the booth."

She gave a "hmm" and pressed a kiss to his upper back, leaning against him for a moment and feeling the muscles move under his skin as he played. She pulled back and traced her finger lightly over the treble clef tattoo on the back of his neck.

She felt a shiver run through him, and he stopped playing, looking over at her. "You are being very distracting," he complained, but he was smiling.

"Sorry," she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He laughed. "You're still a little drunk aren't you?"

"Not exactly sober," she admitted. "I had a lot."

"Nah, you're just a lightweight," he teased.

She shook her head against his shoulder. "No fair comparing, you're Irish."

He scoffed. _"That_ is an offensive stereotype."

She raised her head up to look at him. "I've seen you play Tchaikovsky after five shots. You don't get to be offended if it's true."

"Now, _that's_ just a testament to my impeccable skill as a pianist," he joked.

"Then it sounds like you shouldn't need to practice right now," Jude said, leaning into him again, kissing his shoulder.

"Ah, okay, very clever." He smiled and turned to her, kissing her. She kissed him back, a little sloppily, wrapping her arms around his neck. She broke the kiss only to pull him closer, kissing his jaw, then his neck, and finally nuzzling into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. He laughed. "You are dead clingy tonight, aren't you?"

"Blame the vodka," she murmured.

Lucas laughed again and put his arm around her shoulders. "I do need to work on this though," he said after a moment, kissing the top of her head. "And it's very hard to do that with your head on my shoulder."

Jude sighed, but pulled back and said, "Okay, I'll let you work." She stood up from the piano bench, leaning down to kiss him before walking back to the bed and laying down as he started to play again.

She started to drift off after a few minutes as he played. In her half-sleep she thought of him, of waking up to the distant sound of him playing piano, of lying there in his bed and listening to it for a minute before getting up and walking into his living room where he sat at the piano. He picked up a pencil from the music stand as she watched and erased something in his notebook, writing something else in its place, then playing the passage again, testing out new chords. She came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, and he stopped playing and turned to look, closing the notebook. He smiled softly when he saw her. "Hey, sorry, did I wake you?"

She leaned down, sliding her hands down his chest and wrapping her arms around him, leaning her cheek against his head, pressing against his back. "No, it's okay," she assured him. He put his arms over hers and held her for a moment before she kissed his cheek and pulled away, sitting backwards on the piano bench next to him. She laughed a little. "It's almost 3 AM and you're out here writing?"

"Sorry, inspiration. You know how it is."

"Can I hear it?"

He shook his head. "It's not finished."

"Will you show me when it is?" she asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, "It's actually, uh, kind of for you. So yeah, just let me finish it first."

"You've been writing a lot more, lately," she observed.

He looked over at her and smiled, reaching out a hand and brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. "You inspire me," he said softly. Her heart squeezed and she smiled, leaning in to kiss him. When he broke the kiss, he moved to kiss her forehead, then murmured, "Go back to bed, girl. I'll be there soon."

She started to wake at his weight shifting the mattress. He kissed her shoulder as he lay down next to her, sliding a hand over her stomach. She opened her eyes, slightly disoriented, and saw Lucas smiling down at her. She felt a painful surge of disappointment, then sorrow, then guilt. She had been dreaming of Tommy again, had thought for just a moment in that twilight-sleep that he… She pushed the thought away and smiled back at Lucas. "Hi," she breathed.

"Hi," he whispered back, leaning in to kiss her. She rolled onto her other side to face him, and they exchanged a few more lazy kisses before she broke away, rolling onto her back again. He put an arm over her waist and pulled her close. They were silent for a minute before he asked, "Are you staying tonight?"

She looked at him, a little surprised. She'd slept over at his place once before, a few weeks ago, but that time had been unintentional, both of them having fallen dead asleep after way too many drinks. He hadn't been awkward about it in the morning, had taken the whole thing with his usual nonchalance, but that still seemed different than him asking if she wanted to sleep over. "Can I?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, 'course, if you'd like. It's late. Besides, you seem knackered."

"Okay." She nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

He smiled and gave her a quick kiss before getting up again. She stared up at the ceiling and tried to shake the lingering sadness from the dream about Tommy. Lucas came back after a moment, turning off the lamp and plunging the room into darkness, save the light from the street lamp outside his window, shining in through the gap in the curtains and falling across the foot of bed. He lay down next to her, their arms a few inches apart, but not touching. They were silent for a long time before Jude asked, "Lucas?"

"Yeah?" He didn't sound groggy enough to have been near sleep, so she continued.

"What was her name?" she asked quietly.

He sighed heavily. "Why does it matter?"

Her voice was small. "I just want to know."

He sat up next to her, reaching over to turn on the lamp. He frowned down at her. "Jude, you know, I'd really rather you not go through my things."

"What?" Jude frowned too, pushing herself up on her elbows. "What things? What are you talking about?"

"I thought leaving it lying about would be rude, but I wasn't trying to hide it. Here's the thing though, we never said we were exclusive. I didn't think we were."

"We're not." She sat up. "What are you talking about? I never said we were exclusive."

"Then you can't be jealous about it. She's just someone I met in a pub, okay? She left the bra, I texted her to see if she wanted it back, and she hasn't responded yet. I didn't want to chuck it out in case she wants it."

Jude laughed. "Some girl left her bra here?"

He looked at her in surprise, then frowned. "Okay, now I'm confused."

"You thought I found some random bra and was mad about it?" she asked, amused.

"I… you didn't?"

"No." She laughed again, shaking her head. "Besides, I've hooked up with other people too, Lucas. I definitely don't leave my bras lying around when I leave, but to be fair, that's because in my case it would probably end up on eBay." He still looked baffled, so she said, "I figured you were sleeping with other women. We said this wasn't a relationship. I get it, don't worry."

"Right… well, okay then. But then who were you talking about?"

She bit her lip, then shook her head. "Forget about it, it's not important. Never mind."

He raised his eyebrows at her, but when she just shook her head again and lay back down, he turned off the light again.

After another minute, she said his name again. "Lucas?"

She heard him sigh. "Fine, what was whose name?"

She hesitated for a moment, then said, "Your ex. The girl who broke your heart, made you leave Ireland. What was her name?"

He sighed again, but answered, quietly, "Siobhan."

"Hmm. Spelled like S-i-o-b-h?"

"Yeah," he confirmed.

"That's… super Irish."

He laughed, once. "Yeah, and she's got red hair, too. Very Irish, she is."

"Is she still with your brother?"

He gave a heavy sigh. "Why are you asking about her? Why do you want to know?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just… curious. I just want to know."

"Have you always been this nosy?" he asked, but his tone sounded teasing, not angry.

"Yeah," she answered truthfully. "I guess I have." She lowered her voice, starting softly, "He used to hate…" She trailed off with a sigh. "Anyway. You don't have to answer, I just… I like to know things about people, I guess. If you don't want to talk about it, I understand."

Lucas was silent for a minute, but finally he said, "No, they're not together. My mum said it only lasted a couple of months. Von called me, must've been after she ended it with Sean. She called me a lot, but I never answered. Eventually she stopped."

"Do you still talk to your brother?" Jude asked quietly.

"No," he said firmly.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. He didn't respond. After another long moment she asked, "Was she–"

"Ach, Jude," he cut her off, sounding irritated. He turned his face towards hers, looking at her in the near-darkness. "Okay, if you're gonna ask me these questions, I get to ask some too. Fair? Quid pro quo."

Jude hesitated, then said, "Okay, fine, ask away."

"What was his name?"

"Who–" she started, but he cut her off.

"Don't play stupid, love. You know who I mean. Your ex, what was his name?"

She sighed, closing her eyes. "Tom. Tommy."

"Ah. That'd be Tom Quincy?" he asked.

"Yes," she confirmed softly.

"He was your producer?"

"Yes."

"When you told me about it, you said it was more complicated than not wanting to try long distance… What happened?" He asked. She sighed, and was silent for a long time. He spoke again, "If question time is over, then–"

She cut him off. "He was going to come to London with me. When I told him about the offer, he…" she felt tears pricking at her eyes, and her voice came out choked when she said, "he proposed."

"You said no?" he asked quietly.

"I said yes," she whispered. "But then I… I couldn't… I'm 19, I'm… I left him. I told him I needed to do this on my own." A few tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She didn't wipe them away. She took a deep breath. "Anyway. That's what happened."

"Have you–"

She cut him off. "No, my turn."

"Alright. Sorry."

She sniffled and wiped her cheeks, then asked, "Is she a musician?"

"Uh… she plays. Piano and cello. But she's mostly an artist, a painter." There was a pause, then he added softly, "She always used to have paint on her hands, under her nails. In her hair, sometimes, on her face, on her clothes… The smell of it sometimes still reminds me of her." After a moment he asked, "Have you talked to him, since you got here?"

"No," Jude said in a small voice. "Sadie said… She made me realize that a clean break was probably the best way to do it." He was silent, waiting for her next question. She hesitated, not knowing if it was something she should ask, even if it was what she'd really wanted to know all along. Eventually she asked, "Do you ever think about her, when you're with me? Like when we're… you know, having sex, or–"

He turned his face towards hers again. His eyebrows were raised. "No." He sounded a little surprised. "No, I don't." Some pain must've shown in her expression, because he added, "But it has been months. I guess at first I did, when I first got to London, the first few girls I… But no, Jude. Not with you. I don't think of her, never have." He sighed. "You think of him when you're with me." It wasn't a question.

She sighed too, feeling guilty. "I try not to, Lucas. I really, really try not to."

"Are you using me to get over him?" he asked softly. He sounded sad, and her heart twisted.

She wanted to say "no" right away, to protect his feelings, but she also wanted to be able to answer honestly, so instead she bit her lip and thought about it for a long moment. Eventually she said, "I think I do a lot of things to try and get over him. I've been… I write about him a lot. A lot of my album is about him. And honestly some of the hookups are probably about him too, if he won't get out of my head then sometimes I…" She trailed off.

"So that's a yes, then."

"No," she answered reflexively, then clarified. "I think… Okay so I still think about him a lot. Maybe I'm not over him, maybe I don't know how to be over him. But I really don't think that's why I'm with you."

"You don't _think_ it is," he said, sounding skeptical.

"It isn't," she said more firmly, becoming more sure as she said it. "It isn't, Lucas. Maybe I do sometimes… use hookups as a way to deal with the fact that I'm still… that he's still on my mind. But with you it's different."

"Is it?" He still sounded sad.

"Isn't it?" she asked. "I mean, I know we're not… together, but… this isn't really just sex for you either, is it?"

He turned to her, rolled onto his side and reached out to stroke her cheek with his fingers. "No, I don't think it is."

"Okay, full disclosure, I was… I was in love with Tommy for a very long time. Sometimes it still feels like everything in my life is about him, somehow."

"I can understand that feeling," he said quietly.

"But that's not how I feel about you. This, you and me, it isn't about him. Sometimes I think about him, and there are things that remind me of…" she sighed. "But that's not why I want to be with you." She pushed herself up on her elbow, looking down at him. "I'm not using you. I like you. A lot. You're… different than anyone I've ever met." She couldn't read his expression in the dark. "Sometimes I think about him, but that's because maybe part of me is always thinking about him. Maybe being with you is the only time I _don't_ think of him. I'm still trying to move on, and I'll keep trying, but you have to believe me when I say that I really, really, like you, Lucas."

He reached up, cupping her face, and smiled. "I can live with that."

* * *

aaaand replies to anonymous reviews from last chapter:

 **AR** : Thank you so much! That means a lot, actually. I worry every time I post stuff that's not directly Jude and Tommy (although ultimately all of this is on many levels _very_ much about them, of course) that people won't be interested, so I'm very glad to hear you are!

 **atthtt** : Well, there's one or two Jommy scenes in the upcoming Happy Birthday sequel that are somewhat sexually explicit (and there _was_ some in Stay With Me, too.) Not terribly happy sex scenes, but they're there, anyway. I don't write erotica because I find it uncomfortable and gratuitous for my purposes. I only write out any detail of a sex scene if it's necessary for some aspect of the story, which does mean any time I get somewhat explicit it's probably because intense, generally negative, emotion is happening. For that reason I cannot imagine I'll ever give you quite what you're looking for in this department. Sorry. Thanks for reading, though!


	6. Lucas (3)

Lucas had been unusually quiet all night, a perpetual frown on his face, but Jude was pretending not to notice. He hadn't wanted to come out, had suggested they stay in instead, but Jude insisted, saying she'd had a hard day at work and needed a drink. He had tried to convince her that they both had alcohol in their own apartments, that going out was unnecessary, and she'd finally said that he could stay home, that she didn't mind going without him. He'd bristled immediately at the suggestion and had conceded to go out with her, but he'd been quiet and brooding the whole time, nursing a pint while she was on her third vodka cranberry. She couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, but she just couldn't find it in her to really try.

She'd spent the whole day in rehearsal singing about Tommy. So much of the album was about him, an effort to process the end of their relationship. She had thought that maybe writing about it would allow her to move on, to let go. And some days over the past year it had felt that way, had felt cleansing. Other days, like today, it felt more like she was just opening and reopening the wounds. Everything had gotten so much harder again in the aftermath of the phone call she'd made to him earlier in the week. Saying the words "I still love you" to him had been stupid, maybe even cruel, but they had also been true, and now she was having an even harder time ignoring that truth. The pain in his voice haunted her, and singing about him made it so much worse.

So now she just wanted to drink, wanted to have fun, wanted to try and forget about Tommy and the pit in her stomach that still opened up every time she thought about him. Normally Lucas was a great companion for that kind of thing. He wasn't wild and over the top like Neil and Cassie could be, and he didn't ask her endless questions like Dan sometimes did if he could tell something was off. Lucas was a lot of fun, but he was also calm, collected and chill. His impressive ability to know when he should let things go was one of her favorite things about him. Stress rolled off him like it was nothing, and more than anyone else she knew in London, Lucas usually put her at ease.

Tonight, though, his presence was having the opposite effect. She knew she should probably ask him what was wrong, try to get to the bottom of the out-of-character tension that was coming from him. Instead, she just felt irritated that he was bringing her down. Her guilt over feeling that way just intensified the irritation.

"Oh, shit," Jude laughed suddenly as she recognized a guy sitting at the other end of the bar staring over at them. "I think I hooked up with that guy a few weeks ago."

She expected Lucas to laugh, or to at least roll his eyes and tease her about crowd control or something, but instead he snapped, "Yeah? Was it amazing? Did he blow your mind?" His tone was harsh and sarcastic, and she looked over at him in surprise.

"What the hell is your problem?" she asked.

He shook his head and grabbed his drink "Nothing," he muttered into the glass.

"Seriously, what is wrong with you tonight?"

"I said it's nothing," he snapped. "Just forget I said anything."

She frowned at him for a moment before rolling her eyes and looking away, saying, "Fine then. Whatever." She downed the rest of her drink, and started to try and flag down the bartender when Lucas pulled her arm back.

"I think you've had enough, Jude."

She pulled her arm away. "Okay, no. You don't get to tell me what to do. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? If you're just in a bad mood or something can you please just go home and quit taking it out on me?"

"Why, so then you can shag that bloke again?" he asked, his voice harsh.

"What? Lucas!" Jude protested. "What has gotten into you?"

"Maybe I'm fed up with you reminding me of all the other people you're fucking in addition to me."

"What?" she asked again, incredulously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He stared at her for a moment, sadness flickering across his features, then took a deep breath and said, "I saw the tabloid photos of you and Cal Stewart."

Jude cringed. The pictures had been taken a few nights before, of her and one of Bermondsey's better-known producers kissing outside of a club. It had been stupid of her to kiss him in public, had been stupid of her to hook up with him at all, actually, but she had been very drunk, and Cal had been very persistent. He'd pulled her to him suddenly and practically stuck his tongue down her throat before he got in a cab and left. The kiss had only lasted a few seconds, and she hadn't thought to push him away before he pulled back himself, but someone had been watching them, and those few seconds had been enough.

It could have been worse. Twitter had been blowing up just speculating from the dimly lit and distant photo whether or not Cal's hand was on her ass, (it had been) and Jude didn't want to think about how much worse it could've been. Had there been sneaky enough paparazzi inside the club, they could've taken pictures of a whole lot more than a kiss on the sidewalk. The whole night had been totally classless, really. She should've gotten out of there when he'd asked if he could snort coke off her ass, but she'd been drunk enough, desperate enough for distraction from her thoughts, that she'd just laughed and told him he'd have to earn that privilege. They had hooked up an hour and three shots later in the dimly lit VIP bathroom. He'd drunkenly pawed at her breasts, and she'd given him a half-hearted hand job, mainly just to get it over with so he'd back off and she could go home without a confrontation. It wasn't as if he'd coerced or forced her into anything, she'd known exactly what she was doing, but the whole thing had left her feeling dirty and wrong in more ways than one.

Now, she frowned at Lucas. "What does that have to do with anything? You're mad because Cal kissed me?"

She saw his jaw clench. "He did a lot more than kiss you. I had a session with him today and he wouldn't shut up about it. Jesus, I wanted to deck him right there in the booth."

Jude grimaced. "Ugh, seriously? God, Cal's such a pig."

"And yet, you went out with him," Lucas challenged.

She looked around her at the other people sitting around them. "Can we not talk about this here, Lucas? Please? I'm in the tabloids enough as it is."

He nodded. "Of course, I'm sorry." He stood up and grabbed her hand, gently trying to pull her with him.

She pulled her hand out of his. "I didn't mean right now, Lucas, damn." She started to flag down the bartender again, but Lucas pulled her back.

She was about to protest, but he put his hand on the side of her neck and looked into her eyes. "Please," he said softly. "We need to talk. Please come outside with me."

His face made her stop. He was looking at her with such an earnest, sad expression that she nodded and got off her bar stool, following him out onto the street. The night air was chilly, and when Lucas saw her wrap her arms around herself, he wordlessly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She pulled it around her and turned to look at him as they turned a corner to a more secluded section of pavement. "What is going _on,_ Lucas?" she asked. "Why are you acting like this? And what the hell does Cal have to do with anything?"

"You called him a pig."

"Yeah, because he is a–"

"And yet," he cut her off, "you went out with him, kissed him on camera, did a lot more than kiss him in the toilets of a club, from what I hear." She cringed, and when he saw it, his expression changed from irritated to concerned. "Wait," he said, looking into her eyes. "Wait, Jude, he didn't… I mean, he didn't… force himself on you or anything like that, he didn't–"

"No," she cut him off. "No, Lucas, he didn't force me, God. He was… maybe a little aggressive, but no. I knew what I was doing. Cal's a pig, but he's not… No. And I was drunk, but not _that_ drunk."

He looked relieved for a second before his frown deepened again. "Do you _like_ Cal?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Jude gave a frustrated sigh. "I thought he was alright before he apparently started fucking telling people at work private details about how we hooked up. But why does it matter?"

"Why does it _matter_ that you _hooked up_ ," he put an odd emphasis on her phrase, which sounded strange in his accent, "with someone you don't even like?"

"It was a mistake," she said, through clenched teeth. "A mistake, I might add, that is none of your fucking business. If this is just that you're offended on my behalf because a man thinks he has the right to talk about my private life at work, then that's fine, great, but if this is about _anything_ else, then you are way out of line. You don't get to be mad about what I do, Lucas." She was becoming increasingly agitated, her voice rising in volume. "I don't need your judgement, and you have no right to be jealous."

"And what if I am anyway?" he cried.

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"What if I hate the idea of anyone else… Especially bastards like Cal Stewart."

"Then you're a giant hypocrite!" she protested. "You don't have any right to tell me what to do! You don't _own_ me. Just because we're sleeping together–"

"What if that's not enough for me anymore?"

"What?" she asked again. "What the hell are you talking about?" She frowned at him, confused. "Lucas, _you_ are the one who said this wasn't a relationship. You're the one who said you didn't want to label things, you–"

"Almost a year ago!" he protested. "Jude, things _change_."

"You don't get to be jealous when you're sleeping with other–"

"But I'm not!"

"–women all the– wait, what?" She stopped, surprised, raising her eyebrows at him. "What do you mean you're not?"

Lucas's cheeks were flushed from emotion and the cold night air. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the ground, taking a deep breath. "I mean, I'm not. I'm not seeing anyone else. I haven't been with anyone else for almost three months."

"I'm… confused. We never said anything about being exclusive. I didn't realize…"

He looked back up at her. "I know. But I don't want anyone else, Jude. I suppose I thought… maybe you felt the same."

"Lucas," she looked at him with wide eyes, "you never _told_ me. Was I just supposed to know that you–"

"No. Of course not. Maybe I just… hoped that you… I don't know."

"What are you trying to say? What is it that you want from me?"

"I need more than this." She must have looked freaked out, because he said, "I'm not asking you to marry me, and I'm not trying to tie you down, or… This just isn't enough for me anymore. I can't be just… one of the crowd, do you understand?"

"You're _not_ , Lucas," she insisted. "I promise it's not like that."

"It feels like that, sometimes." He sighed. "I suppose I should just come out with it then. I can't do this anymore. I want a real relationship with you. Not just sex."

"This has never been just sex," Jude said softly.

"Even if that's true…"

"This is about a label?"

"This is about monogamy." His eyes searched her face and he looked sad. "If that's not what you want, then that's okay, but I can't… If that's the case then we have to stop… whatever this is. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be that person, giving you an ultimatum, and I don't want this to feel like it's coming out of nowhere. But I've been needing to say this for a long time, I think."

"Here's the thing, I… I'm a mess, Lucas. Between the album and…" She felt tears pricking her eyes. "I think maybe it's that the pressure is getting to me, or something, but I feel so… disconnected, or…" her voice was choked. "I don't know. I don't want to drag you into my shit."

He reached out a hand to wipe a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," she answered in a whisper. "This week has been…" She sighed. She hadn't told Lucas about the phone call with Tommy, hadn't brought up Tommy in months. She was far past the amount of time it was acceptable to still be hung up on her ex.

Lucas looked sadly at her for a long moment, then reached out to pull her into a hug. She returned it, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her face in towards his neck. "Maybe I've just made this harder than it had to be," he said after a moment.

She pulled back far enough to look at him. "What do you mean?"

He looked at her for a moment, then said, "I got upset about Cal and so I made this conversation into something really big. But look, all I'm asking is if we can agree to be exclusive. Nothing else has to change, I just… I would rather be the only one you're shagging." He smiled a little. "Nothing more complicated than that, yeah?"

"Then my answer is yes."

Lucas raised his eyebrows. "Really? Just like that?"

She smiled. "Yes, really. I can do exclusive." She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "I think maybe it's what I need too."

A smile spread across his face and he leaned in to kiss her. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck, but he pulled back quickly, saying, a little breathlessly, "I'm sorry. There might be paparazzi watching, I didn't even think before–"

"Lucas," Jude cut him off with a laugh, pulling his face back to hers. "Let them see," she whispered, and kissed him again.

* * *

 **A/N:** I have a few more of these, but they're not finished, so it may be a week or more.


	7. Lucas (4)

Jude woke slowly, everything in her protesting for a moment, begging to return to sleep. Her limbs felt like lead, but eventually the dryness in her mouth and the pounding in her head won out, and she rolled over in bed, opening her eyes slowly. Her eyelids felt stuck together at first, from sleep and from all of her crying the night before. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, reaching for the water bottle she kept on her bedside table. She drank the rest of the tepid water greedily, then grabbed her phone. There were texts from Tommy, and her heart squeezed as she read them. _"i just want to say that i know how hard it all can be, the fame, and i want you to know that im so proud of you" "we both need to try and move on and let go but ill always be here for you if you need me" "but you don't need me" "hang in there girl"_

She wiped a few tears from her cheeks and texted _"thank you so much tommy. for everything"_

Jude felt a twinge of embarrassment at how much of a mess she must have sounded on the phone with Tommy, how much of a mess she had been. But it was worth it to know that he still cared for her, still believed in her. His strained, "I love you too," was painful to remember, but not nearly so painful as the memory had been of the look on his face as he told her that she wasn't the Jude he knew. She read and re-read his words on her phone screen. He was proud of her. He believed in her.

She set the phone aside and lay back on the bed and thought about what he'd said on the phone, about trying to cut out the drama to focus on the music. An image of Lucas came to her mind, unbidden, of him smiling at her through the glass of the booth. The day they met had been her first day in the studio after moving to London. She had been so nervous, doubting her ability to write, to sing, to produce, to make it on her own. The first thing Lucas had said to her after introducing himself was, "So, you're the new kid, then. I'm the old new kid." She must have looked confused, because he had laughed. "I just started here a couple of months ago myself. It can be overwhelming." He'd corrected himself then, saying, "Oh, I suppose not for you, you're, uh, famous and everything, you've got a platinum album and all that, after all." She'd laughed and said that overwhelming was a good word for it, platinum album aside, and he'd smiled. "Well, you don't have anything to worry about. You've obviously got the talent. And this," he'd held up his binder with her lead sheets in it, "is brilliant stuff." She had wondered briefly if he was just sucking up to her, something that was not at all uncommon once you got a certain amount of fame, but something about him made her believe he was genuine. He walked into the studio looking utterly comfortable, like he knew it was where he belonged, and somehow his demeanor put her at ease.

More than she had since she'd arrived in London, working with Lucas had made her feel calmer and more confident. In other situations, too, since then, Lucas had been like a calm in the center of a storm. There had been parties, concerts, places where she'd felt overwhelmed and out of balance, and being with Lucas usually made her feel more grounded. With his sincerity, his wit, his devotion to the music, he was unlike anyone else she'd ever met. It wasn't like what she felt for Tommy, didn't have the intensity. There wasn't the same passion, the same need. Tommy could turn her inside out with one look. Working with him, being with him, he made her feel like she could do anything. After nearly a year and a half, there was still a Tommy-shaped hole in her heart, and maybe there always would be. Maybe nothing would ever again make her feel the way she felt when Tommy kissed her.

But maybe that was okay. Maybe there was something to be said for feeling calm, for being grounded and confident and safe. Maybe Lucas's ability to get her out of her own head, to stop her spiraling out of control, was exactly what she needed.

She thought of the hurt in his eyes, the completely out of character way he'd yelled at her, and felt a deep pang of guilt. Tommy's voice rang in her head again. _Try to cut out the drama and get back to the heart of why you're doing this._ She also thought of something Dan had said to her, after that night in the club as she'd cried on Sadie's couch. _You don't have to do it all alone, Jude. Being independent doesn't mean having no support system._

After taking a couple of aspirin, she called Lucas. He took a while to answer, and her heart clenched, worrying she'd screwed up so badly he wasn't even taking her calls. Finally, though, he did pick up. "Hey, Jude," he said with a sigh.

The first thing she said was "I'm so sorry, Lucas."

He sighed again. "No. I'm sorry. Yesterday was…"

"Yeah," she said softly. "Can I come over? We should talk."

"Sure. Yeah, I'd like that, actually."

.

She knocked on the door to Lucas's loft half an hour later. When he opened the door he was smiling, but his expression transformed into one of concern when he saw her. As he stepped aside and she walked in, he asked, "Rough night last night?"

"Is it that obvious?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Do I look that bad?"

"No," he answered quickly. "No, you look lovely."

She laughed. "Liar."

He smiled. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, that would be great, thanks." As he grabbed a mug and poured her coffee, she sat down at the little kitchen table he'd finally bought a few months ago.

He handed her the coffee and sat down across from her. "Seriously, are you alright?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "I, uh, went out with Neil."

"Ah, so you'll be needing the whole pot, then," Lucas joked.

Jude smiled. "Probably. But it actually wasn't too bad. I mean, pretty much everything about yesterday was… bad, for a lot of reasons, but I do remember the whole night. And at least I woke up in my own bed, so, that's something," she tried to make a joke, but Lucas looked sad.

"Alone in your own bed?" he asked with a frown, and she sighed. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I shouldn't have said that. Anyway, I suppose that's none of my business."

"I went home alone, yes," she answered. "And, no, it's okay. I'm the one who should be sorry."

He shook his head. "The things I said, all of that was out of line, and I'm sorry. Especially to… to shout at you, and to do it in public. That was unforgivable. I've checked all the gossip sites, and there doesn't seem to have been any damage, but still. I knew better, and I'm so sorry."

"You weren't wrong, though," she said softly. "What you said about me… self-destructing. You weren't wrong."

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking concerned.

She but her lip for a moment, then said, "I'm… a mess, I don't know. Tour was… it was great, but it was also like this… other world. Everything about it is so intense, in a lot of ways. It's hard to remember you have a life outside of it."

"You avoided my calls," he said quietly. She sighed, and he continued, "I tried to tell myself you were busy, but it was more than that, wasn't it?"

"I _was_ busy," she said, then sighed again, looking down her coffee. "But yeah. I guess I was also avoiding you." She looked back up at him, and her heart twisted when she saw his hurt expression. "I don't even know why. I guess I was trying to… throw myself into this world, the tour."

"So you cut out the dead weight." It was something she'd said to him the day before, and she winced. He didn't look angry, just sad.

"I shouldn't have said that."

"If that's how you honestly feel, if you think I'm holding you back, somehow, then–"

"You're not holding me back. But you do keep me grounded, sometimes, and maybe I've been resisting that. I came to London to… be my own person, I guess. To spread my wings or something. There's a reason I did that alone." She thought, briefly, of Tommy promising to be her normal, her anchor, and she swallowed hard. "But I think I've been all wrong about what that means."

"I'm not sure I understand," he admitted.

"I've been acting like the only way to be independent and have the career I want is to not let anybody in. But you were right that my life has been kind of out of control lately. The tour, the partying, the dr–"

"Stop," Lucas said suddenly, sounding irritated for the first time. Jude looked up in surprise. "You keep trying to paint me as something that I'm not. I'm not trying to tell you to quit drinking or settle down or any of this shit, Jude, that's not me. I'm not _Neil_ , but I am still fucking _fun_ , yeah? I don't know where you got this idea that I've ever been trying to keep you out of the partying. I just don't want to play _games_ anymore. That is all I have ever asked from you. I don't need you to change, I just need to know where I stand."

"No, _I_ need to change," she said quickly. "I never thought you were trying to change me." She sighed and looked down at the mug in her hands. "I know I hurt you. I know I've probably been hurting you for a long time. But that's one of the things I want to change. I don't even think I really know why I've been resisting making this commitment." She stared at her coffee for a second longer before looking up at Lucas again. "Being with you is like… playing music." He looked surprised, and Jude continued. "Not like performing, not like the high. Not like recording either, really. But like when I'm playing by myself, just me and my guitar. And everything just kind of… falls away, and I'm just me. Without all of the pressure and the craziness, you know? That's sort of how I feel when I'm with you."

Lucas still looked surprised, his eyebrows raised, staring at her in something like astonishment. After a moment he spoke softly. "Like playing music?" Jude nodded, and he laughed. "I reckon that's nicest thing anyone has ever said about me."

She smiled. "Well, it's true." Her smile fell and she looked back down. "At least it used to be true. I haven't felt like that in a long time. Not your fault," she added quickly, looking back up at him, "totally my fault, but still. Everyone always wants something from me, and I get to the point where I start feeling like I'm wearing a mask all the time and I don't know what's the real me. Sometimes it's really easy to feel like that with the fame and having this public persona, and it's happened before. But for the past year I've let it get really bad. I feel like I've lost touch with the reasons I'm doing this in the first place. So I guess the bottom line is that I need to make a change. And I want to do that with you." She hesitated, then said, "If you can forgive me, I guess."

Lucas smiled. "You're easy to forgive. Come here." He stood up, and Jude did too. He pulled her into a hug, and she hugged him back tightly. She pulled back after a moment, far enough to look at him, and he put a hand on the side of her face, leaning down to kiss her softly.

When she broke the kiss, she looked him in the eyes and said, "So, uh… would you maybe want to be my boyfriend, or something?"

He laughed. "That is exactly what I want, girlfriend or something."

"Don't make fun of me!" she protested, but she was laughing.

He leaned in and kissed her again before pulling back and saying, "For what it's worth, I admire you." Jude looked surprised, and Lucas smiled. "I just mean that I can see how intense this last year and a half has been for you, since you came to London. The fact that you handle the pressure as well as you do… It's not that you need to change, you just… need to take care of yourself, yeah? Let other people take care of you sometimes, maybe. But you don't need to change, Jude. Because I love who you are, alright?"

Jude's eyes widened a little at the word "love," but she smiled, putting a hand on his cheek. "Thank you, Lucas," she said softly before wrapping her arms around his neck and standing up on her toes to kiss him again.

* * *

 **me:** It'll be a week

 **me, a month later:** Ha, oops

This is why I never start posting a story before I'm finished, y'all.


	8. Lucas (5)

**A/N:** For some reason this one is _really_ long. With all of these together (there's one more after this that I haven't quite finished yet) I've written around 20,000 words just about Lucas and Jude, and I don't even know if anyone else cares about Lucas at all. Honestly, probably more than anything else I've ever written, I'm really just writing these for myself at this point. But thank you for reading anyway!

To the reviewer who expressed hope that there'd be another Jude/Tommy scene coming up soon in these extras: I love this version of Tommy and Jude too, actually. Of the Jude and Tommy in any of my stories, their dynamic in Long and Winding is probably my favorite. Unfortunately, at this point I haven't got any more directly Jommy ideas for the road, because I feel like between the first two extras and the story itself, I've kind of used up any unique concept for Jommy interaction within this particular story canon. Sorry! Maybe some day. After all, there have been tons of updates on the Happy Birthday extras in the years since the moment I first thought that I might be out of ideas.

Anyway, here goes my longest extra ever:

* * *

Though she'd already completed two months of touring, Jude had actually been more nervous leaving for the second leg than she had been for the first. The North American leg had been very successful from a performance standpoint, but overall the experience itself had left her feeling out of control and disconnected. She had gone overboard so easily in the party culture, and while it had been fun at the time, she had realized in retrospect that she'd been lucky to have avoided significant media scandal. She'd resolved after her conversation with Tommy and her re-commitment to Lucas to try and tone down the partying, to try harder to take care of herself and remember that music was supposed to be the focus. She'd hoped that these things would be enough to help her to feel more balanced, but she still worried that once the tour started, the feelings of disconnect and doubt would return. Despite these worries, there were two things that made her feel more confident that this leg of the tour would be different.

The night before she left London for the second leg, she'd texted Tommy as she lay in bed unable to fall asleep, _"tour starts again tomorrow. wish me luck?"_

His response had come quickly; _"good luck"_ and then, _"but you dont need it girl. youll be amazing"_

She'd fallen asleep with a smile on her face, and in the morning she had read and re-read the texts, reminding herself that he believed in her.

It wasn't as though Tommy were really back in her life. She remembered his words about letting go, and knew they were true for her too, so she wouldn't call him again, wouldn't try to continue text conversations beyond a few messages. Despite the truth in the words she had sobbed into the phone—that part of her wanted him here, that she still loved him—she knew he was right that they needed to both try harder to let go, move on, find their identities without one another.

But still somehow the conversation, embarrassing as it was the way it had happened, had left her feeling better, like they'd repaired something between them. Since she came to London, the thought of him had always filled her with sorrow. Even all the good memories of him were tainted with grief. It wasn't only that she missed him, though of course she did, it was the fear that the way she'd ended things had left him hating her. The simple knowledge that he still cared, that he forgave her for what she had done and supported the person she was trying to become, it eased the grief more than she might have expected. She still loved him, would always love him, but his words of support and his reminder that she had left in order to find herself and stand on her own, they made it easier to let him go, at least for now. She embarked on the second leg of the tour with the feeling that she wasn't done yet, that she hadn't quite found what she had left Toronto to find. And somewhere within the renewed determination was a glimmer of hope she hadn't had before. A hope that maybe some day she would see him again, that they would reunite when they were both finally the people they needed to be to make their relationship last for real this time. She didn't dwell on the hope, didn't even really let herself believe it, but it was there somewhere deep in her chest, and it became part of what kept her going.

The other major factor in her new-found confidence that she would succeed on tour was Lucas's presence there.

Dan had hurt his wrist parasailing on his honeymoon in the Caribbean. It wasn't broken, but it was a bad sprain requiring a brace, some physical therapy, and a strict order that he take a break from playing until the ligaments could heal. Jude had stopped by Dan and Heather's apartment the day they returned to London, and Dan had apologized profusely for the fact that he'd have to miss the next couple of weeks of touring. He had seemed sincerely distraught at the thought that he was letting her down, but seeing the way his new bride leaned her head on his shoulder, the way his fingers unconsciously sought and entwined with hers as he talked, Jude wondered if maybe he didn't quite regret the injury as much as he claimed. She saw the way Dan and Heather looked at each other, like there was no one else in the world, and she couldn't begrudge her bassist being glad for more time at home with his wife. As she left their apartment, she'd jokingly said, "Enjoy your extended honeymoon then, guys." Dan had started to protest, but Heather had wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him back into the apartment with a giggle and an "oh, we will! Bye, Jude!" as she shut the door. Jude had smiled at the sound of Dan's laughter through the door.

Suddenly short a bassist two days before they were supposed to leave, Jude had—through a mixture of charm, the little bit of business acumen she'd acquired over the years, and pure stubbornness—managed to convince Nicola that Lucas was the best choice as a temporary replacement, despite his relative lack of on-stage experience, and the fact that the bass wasn't generally his instrument.

Though she missed Dan, having Lucas there was wonderful. Performing with him wasn't something she'd ever had the occasion to do, and she had worried briefly that it would throw off the chemistry of the band to have him there, but the opposite had been true. Lucas fit in beautifully, if not quite as naturally as Dan, and his musical skill was undeniable. On and off the stage, the addition of Lucas into the tour dynamic was an unquestionably positive one.

Something she'd struggled with before was feeling connected to a life outside of the craziness of the tour, and having Lucas with her helped a lot with that. For some reason, Lucas also seemed to temper Neil's wild streak in a way even Dan couldn't, which in turn calmed Jude's impulse that she needed to go hard every night, which kept even the first couple of whirlwind weeks from feeling out of control. Even when they drank too much, (and they did certainly do plenty of that,) waking up next to Lucas, no matter how hungover she might have been, was a hundred times better than all the times she'd found herself in bed with a stranger.

.

The third city Lucas played in for the tour was Dublin. He hadn't returned to his home town since he'd left nearly two years prior, and he seemed a little nervous to go back. When they actually arrived in the city, however, Lucas's excitement overtook the unease, and he leapt at the chance to show Jude all of his favorite spots in the city during the two days they were there.

They met some of his old friends for drinks the first night, and Jude was incredibly relieved when they seemed to like her. Once the initial shock of meeting a celebrity, and one who was dating their friend at that, wore off, everyone seemed to relax, and Jude had more fun that night than she'd had in a long time. She was amused to find that Lucas's accent thickened considerably around his friends, especially as he drank more, and as the night went on their speech became increasingly unintelligible to her. Pointing this out prompted a very profanity-laden lesson in Dublin slang from three drunk Irishmen that Jude could barely remember a word of in the morning, but which had her laughing so hard that she nearly fell out of her chair multiple times.

The second day, Lucas dragged her to what felt like every corner of the city. He showed her where he used to go to school, street corners where he used to play music, even the little suburban house where he'd grown up. Lucas explained that neither of his parents were in the city at the time, what with the short notice of the tour and the fact that they spent half the year in the Southwest of the country now that their kids were both grown and living elsewhere. He seemed amused rather than offended by her poorly disguised relief at knowing she would not be meeting his parents. The only awkward parts of the morning were the few times Lucas let his brother's name slip when telling a story, after which he would usually fall silent for a moment before very pointedly smiling wider and changing the subject.

As their free time before the concert was coming to an end, Lucas told Jude he was taking her to one more of his old haunts, which turned out to be a little café. He explained that the owner of the place was a friend of his family, and that she used to let him play occasionally for the patrons. Jude teased him as they walked up that the place looked devastatingly hipster. Surprised when he didn't retort, she looked over at him and saw him frozen to the spot, staring at a painting in the window of the shop. It looked as though all the blood had drained from his face. "Whoa, hey, what's wrong?" Jude asked, alarmed. Lucas didn't reply, just continued to stare at the painting as though he'd seen a ghost.

Jude looked at the painting, trying to figure out what had prompted his reaction. The word that came to her mind was _impressionist_ , though she didn't know enough about art to know how accurate an assessment it was of the style. The colors were bright and the brush strokes broad, a mix of reds and oranges and blues that Jude couldn't quite turn into the outlines of objects when she was standing so close. She took a big step back, trying to better make out the whole picture. It was of a man, she saw, shirtless, his back turned, playing the piano. The window in front of him looked out over a city street. There was something oddly familiar in the painting, and when she realized what it was, she and Lucas spoke at the same time.

Jude said, "Whoa, is this you?" at the same moment Lucas breathed, "This is her."

"Wait, her who?" Jude looked at him, confused. "I just thought… doesn't this sort of look like your tattoo?" She pointed to a treble clef on the back of the man's neck in the painting.

Lucas nodded, not taking his eyes off of the painting. His lips barely moved when he spoke. "Yeah, it does, because it _is_. She designed that tattoo. This… this is her work. I'd recognize it anywhere. This is… and she's painted _me_."

Jude started to ask "who?" when she remembered something he'd once told her, and it clicked. "Oh my god, wait, you mean your ex?"

Lucas nodded again. "Siobhan Connell." He gestured to the signature at the bottom right corner, and Jude could make out the S and the C.

For some reason, the question that came out was, "Wait, she designed your tattoo?"

He didn't seem to hear her. His fingers reached out seemingly unconsciously towards the glass of the shop window. "This view," he murmured to himself, looking at the window in the painting, "our view, our flat…"

Jude examined the painting, her eyes tracing the lines of the neck, the shoulders, the arm of the man in the painting. Now that her brain had brought the figure into focus, it was definitely recognizable as Lucas, painted with care and skill by someone who knew these shoulders, this back, this jawline by heart as well or better than Jude herself. She turned to Lucas, who was still staring at the painting with awe and horror and sorrow all at once. "Hey," she said softly, "are you okay?"

Lucas finally turned to her, blinking. "Yeah, yeah, I'm alright. Fine. Good, sorry. I just didn't expect–"

The door to the coffee shop opened as he spoke, and a woman's Dublin-accented voice from behind Jude exclaimed, "It's really you!"

Jude turned with her practiced rockstar smile already on her face, expecting a fan, and saw a tall, curvy young woman with orange-red hair in a long off-center braid over her right shoulder. She wore glasses with dark green frames, and an apron over her flowing knee-length black skirt. To Jude's surprise, the woman wasn't staring at her, star-struck to see Jude Harrison in the flesh, she was staring straight at Lucas, as if she hadn't even noticed Jude was standing there. Jude looked back at Lucas to find him wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open in shock. She frowned, looking between Lucas and the woman for a moment.

"Birdie, I didn't know you'd come back to Dublin!" the woman exclaimed, a smile lighting up her pretty features. "It's so good to see you!" Her smile was wide and sincere, and she took a few steps towards Lucas, moving out of the doorway.

Lucas seemed to fumble for words, his mouth opening and closing a few times before saying, "What in hell are you doing here?"

The woman's eyebrows creased a little, her smile fading at the harshness of Lucas's words, and she took a tiny step back. "Yeah, Natalia, she, em, offered me a job a while ago. Partly as a barista, obviously," at this she gestured to the apron around her waist, "but she also lets me sell my paintings." She pointed to the painting in the window, and Jude's suspicions of the woman's identity were confirmed. Siobhan's voice softened as she said, "Do you like it? I'm calling it 'Songbird'. I started it before you left, but I put it aside after… until a few months ago, when I found it in a stack of old canvases and pulled it back out. I spent a week convincing the people who live in that flat now to let me in to take pictures so I could get that view from the window right. They thought I was mad, but they said yes eventually, and I think it was worth it, don't you?" Siobhan was speaking quickly, nervously, and Lucas just looked between her and the painting, seemingly at a loss for words.

Finally, Jude intervened, stepping forward towards Siobhan and saying, "Hi."

The other woman looked over at her, seemingly seeing her for the first time, "Oh! Hello, sorry."

"Jude Harrison," Jude supplied when it became clear that Lucas was too overwhelmed by the situation to provide introductions. "I'm Lucas's girlfriend."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh, you're, wait, Jude Harrison? As in, you're… You actually are, Jesus, okay, hi, wow, Christ!" She laughed. "Sorry, bit of a surprise. I'm Siobhan." She reached out a hand. Jude didn't make any move to take it, keeping her hands in her jacket pockets. Siobhan continued, "Lucas and I are old…" When she realized Jude did not intend to shake hands, her face fell and she pulled her hand back. "Right, of course, he's told you about me, hasn't he?" Jude regarded her coolly and shrugged. Siobhan sighed. "Well, I can imagine what you think of me, then." She turned to Lucas. "So, did you tell her the whole story or just one where I'm the unfaithful cunt who broke your heart for no reason? Huh, Birdie? How heartless did you make me out to be?"

"Don't call me that," Lucas snapped, finally seeming to come to his senses, growing angrier by the minute.

"Lucas, then," she corrected herself with another sigh. She took another step forward, her voice soft and pleading now. "There's no excuse for what I did. I know it. Birdie—Lucas—I'm sick about it, you have to believe me, I've regretted it every day of the last two years, and if there was anything I could do to change it, I would in a heartbeat. You _know_ that. I never meant to hurt you, never wanted to hurt you like that. It was a mistake, and it was absolutely wrong. You deserved so much better, after everything you did for me, and I'm so sorry. Nothing will _ever_ make what I did okay, and I understand that, but could you please _try_ to understand why it happened? There's not an excuse, but there is an explanation."

"You fucked my brother in our bed, Siobhan. Nothing you can say will ever make that make sense to me." Jude had never seen Lucas this angry. He wasn't shouting, but his face was turning red, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

"Think about it, though, Lucas," Siobhan continued in that same pleading tone. "When was the last time you and I had been–"

He did raise his voice then, cutting her off. "Oh, fuck you, Siobhan! Are you actually fucking claiming that you shagged my brother because you and I didn't do it enough? You were, what, so starved for sex that you–"

"Not for sex, you gobshite!" Siobhan shouted, looking angry for the first time. "For _attention_ , for _love_ , for–" She cut herself off, shaking her head, and spoke again more calmly. "You and I didn't talk anymore except to argue. You were so _cold_ , and Kira…" Jude thought she saw Lucas wince a little at the name, and Siobhan's eyes were bright with tears. "I _needed_ you, I needed someone to talk to, I…" She turned to Jude, suddenly. "Did he tell you that my sister died? My baby sister. Did he tell you that it was the anniversary of her death, that he–"

"Leave Jude out of this!" Lucas shouted, and Siobhan turned back to him.

"Fine," she said, sounding tired. "I just want you to know that I didn't do it to hurt you. I never meant for it to happen, I honestly didn't. I was just… I was grieving and you weren't there. I felt like I couldn't talk to you at all. I was falling apart and you couldn't even see it. I needed _someone_ , and Sean was–"

"Sean was my brother!" Lucas protested, his voice breaking. "My _brother_ , Von."

"I know," she whispered, a few tears spilling out onto her cheeks, which had turned a blotchy pink. "But Sean was _there,_ Lucas. He was there for me when you weren't and I was desperate for someone to talk to. I know I should've tried harder to talk to you, to explain how I was feeling. I should've reminded you of the date when you didn't remember, instead of hoping you'd figure it out and being passive aggressive about it. I should've done a million things differently, and I know it. But what happened instead was that you and I had that massive fight and you left, wouldn't answer my calls… Kira was dead, and I felt like I was completely falling apart, and then Sean was there… We'd been getting closer, we'd been talking for a couple of months, and he came over and was so sweet and he _cared_ , and we were drinking, I was so completely plastered, and you were who knows where, and I was crying, and he kissed me, and…" She was really crying hard now, tears streaming down her face. "I made a mistake," she whispered.

Lucas looked conflicted for a moment, guilt and anger and hurt warring in his expression before he shook his head and quietly said, "It doesn't make it okay, Von."

Siobhan nodded and wiped her cheeks with her hand, smudging her mascara slightly. "I know," she said with a sniffle. "I know, Birdie. And I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I tried to apologize, I wanted to fix it, save our relationship, but you wouldn't have it. You were shouting, you and Sean, I was afraid you were going to bash his skull in, and then you left and I thought I needed to just give you some time to calm down, but when I next saw you, you told me you were leaving, moving away. I never wanted any of it to happen. I tried to fix it but I didn't know how."

"That's because that's not something you can fix." Lucas didn't sound exactly angry anymore, just exhausted and resigned. "And it's not something I can forgive, Von, okay? Did you know that I can still picture it, still see you and him…" he shook his head. "So if forgiveness is what you're asking me for, then I'm sorry, but no."

She nodded, then nodded again with a sniffle, wiping more tears from her face. "I understand. Well, I'll, em… I'll leave you alone then. Sorry to ruin your afternoon." Siobhan turned to Jude and gave a wry smile. "Nice to meet you, Jude." Jude didn't reply, just stared, speechless, and Siobhan sighed, muttered, "Right then," and turned away.

As she had her hand on the door of the coffee shop, Lucas said, "Von," and she turned back, her eyes wide and hopeful. Lucas didn't seem to know what he wanted to say. They looked at each other for a long moment, Jude looking between them, until Lucas said softly, "The painting. It's… They're all beautiful, Siobhan. I'm glad people are starting to take notice. You deserve it."

Siobhan's eyes filled with tears again, and Jude thought maybe the kind words would be enough to unravel the woman's composure, but she just smiled and gave a watery, "Thank you. That means so much." She wiped more of the tears from her face and said, "And Marcus told me you got a job at a label, that you're a, what, a studio musician now? I think that's wonderful, I'm so happy for you. I always said you'd make it as a musician, didn't I? You were always so talented, my Birdie, my–"

Lucas stiffened at the words and shook his head. "Don't," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

Siobhan's smile fell and she nodded. "Right, sorry." She bit her lip, looking like she wanted to say something else, but then she just nodded again and said, "Bye then." Her voice cracked a little as she said it, and she turned away. Jude could see her wiping more tears from her cheeks with her sleeve as she walked into the shop, the door closing behind her.

Lucas stood staring at the place where she'd left. He looked a little like he was going to be sick. Finally Jude broke the silence, breathing, "Damn." He looked over at her, as if startled to find her standing there, and she took a step towards him, putting a hand on his arm. "Lucas, are you okay?" she asked, gently.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He shook his head rapidly, as if to clear it. "Jesus, sorry you had to see that."

"No, it's fine, it's just, really, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Great." He looked down at his watch and said, "We should go. Sound check."

"Wait, seriously, are you–"

"Jude!" he cried, cutting her off. He quickly spoke more softly. "I'm fine, love. Really. It's nothing. We should go."

She almost protested again, but decided against it, putting her hand on the side of his face and nodding. "Okay." He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before turning away, taking her hand and leading her back down the street.

.

When they got to the concert venue, Lucas greeted everyone with his normal cheery demeanor, as if the events of the afternoon had never happened. Jude watched him a little more closely than usual as they did the sound check and prepared for the show, but eventually she decided he seemed fine, and she concentrated on her own performance. The concert went well, and Lucas seemed fine afterwards, as pumped up as any of them after a high-energy crowd and a good concert. When they all went out to get a drink, however, Lucas grew quiet. After half a pint, he came up to Jude and said, close to her ear to be heard over the sound of the music and of people talking and laughing, "I'm going to turn in, love."

She looked at him in surprise, "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," he assured her. "Just tired. Not really in the mood."

"I can come with you if you give me a minute."

"No, no," he insisted. "Stay. You stay, it's alright."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "'Course. Have fun. It was a great show tonight." He put a hand on the side of her face and gave her a short kiss. "Goodnight," he said as he pulled back, then turned away and headed out.

Jude finished her drink, but she kept picturing the sick, stricken look on Lucas's face after Siobhan had walked away. She remembered the way she'd felt after seeing Tommy, and she decided to go after him.

She let herself into the hotel suite they were sharing and heard the shower running. She took off her shoes and her jacket and thought about getting in the shower with him, but decided against it. When he came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, she was sitting on the bed reading her Twitter feed. "Hey," she said when she saw him

He jumped, startled, not having seen her there. "Jesus, you scared me. Hi. What are you doing here? I told you you could stay."

Jude shrugged and set down her phone, standing up and walking over to him, putting her arms around his neck. "I go out with Cass and Neil all the time. I'd rather spend time with you." A thought occurred to her then, and she pulled back. "Oh, unless that was your way of saying you'd rather be alone. Shit, I can go if you want."

"No, don't be ridiculous. I just didn't want to spoil your night, but come here." He pulled her back towards him, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her, gently at first, then harder, pulling her tight against him, his hand in her hair. He pushed her towards the bed, and she pulled back a little to look at him. He looked troubled, a little crease between his eyebrows, and when he kissed her again there was an edge of something to it, a desperation. As his fingers fumbled with the button of her jeans, Jude realized it was the first time she could remember that she had the distinct impression this wasn't totally about her, that he was trying to put someone else out of his mind. She almost said something, almost stopped him to ask if they should talk about it instead, but then she remembered all the times over the past year and a half that Tommy had been a ghost in her head when she was with Lucas, and figured maybe she owed him this. So she pulled her shirt over her head and lay down on the bed, wrapping her legs around his waist as he removed his towel and climbed on top of her.

A while later, Jude came back from the bathroom wearing one of Lucas's T-shirts to find him laying on the hotel bed staring up at the ceiling. He'd put on his pajamas but wasn't under the covers. He was frowning when she first saw him, but he turned to her and smiled as she approached. It didn't quite reach his eyes. Jude got onto the bed and sat next to him, facing him. He had one of his knees bent, and she put an arm around his leg, pushing gently against him. "Hey," she said softly. "You okay?"

He nodded, and sighed. "I'm alright."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently.

"About what?" he asked, feigning confusion.

"Lucas…" She raised her eyebrows.

"Right." He sighed again. "I don't know. I wouldn't know what to say."

She watched him for a moment, then said, "Move over, it's cold." He moved, and she pulled the covers out from under him and pulled them up over both of them, laying down next to him and laying her head on his chest, her leg over his. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. After a long moment she quietly said, "Can I ask you something, though?" He gave a "hmm" of consent and she asked, "Why does she call you 'Birdie'?"

He sighed. "A play on my last name. Baird, bird, birdie, songbird… I called her 'collie' for a while. It was a stupid joke, but the nickname for me stuck. It was… odd, hearing it again." They were both silent for a while before he asked, "Did you see Tom Quincy when you were in Toronto?"

"Yeah," she answered with a sigh. "It was pretty rough."

"Hmm. Rough how?"

"He came to one of my shows, came backstage. But he brought a girl with him, apparently, a date. A supermodel, actually. I think she might be his girlfriend."

"Ouch," Lucas murmured sympathetically.

"That part wouldn't have been so bad, actually. I mean, it was awkward, obviously, but like, I'd moved on so why shouldn't he have? I could at least rationalize that. The worst part was later. Neil invited him out with us–"

"Oh, of course he did. Oblivious bastard." He said it jokingly, without any real animosity.

"Yeah, well, Tommy said no at first. But he knew where we'd be and I guess he changed his mind because he showed up later. It would've been okay except that it was the last night of tour and Neil was really pushing to go big, and… I guess I wanted to blow off steam or forget about Tommy or something. I didn't think he would be there. I was… We were high, X, I didn't think…" She sighed. "It wasn't a lot, and I wasn't even drinking. It shouldn't have been a big deal, but I didn't know Tommy would be there."

"Did you sleep with him?" Lucas asked softly.

"No," she said adamantly. "No, I didn't."

"Jude," he said, lifting his head and turning to look at her, "I agreed, we weren't exclusive at the time, it's okay."

"I know," she insisted. "But I honestly didn't. I… probably would have. I wanted to. But we didn't." She laid her head back down and he did too. After a moment she said, "The thing is that I didn't really… party, before I came to London, you know? When Tommy knew me, that wasn't something that I did. I think it caught him off-guard or something. He… said some stuff about how I wasn't the Jude he knew, some stuff about cheap hookups… It was hard to hear. I didn't take it very well."

"Wait," Lucas said, sounding a little angry. He pulled away to look at her. "Jude, you left him over a year ago so you could live your own life. Why would he think he had the right to judge you, to tell you how to behave?"

Jude sighed, and sat up. "He didn't. It wasn't like that."

"It sounds like that. Why are you defending him?"

"Because the thing is that he wasn't wrong. It was actually some of the same stuff you said to me later. That's probably why I took it so badly when you said it. But I don't think he meant it. I think he was just overwhelmed, seeing me again. I know I was. But anyway, we talked about it, later, on the phone. He apologized, and it's all good, okay? We're good now, I think. So I'm actually glad it happened, because I think we worked some stuff out." She thought, briefly, of Tommy saying _I love you too_ , of begging him to come to London to be with her, and she sighed. "Anyway, it was hard, seeing him again, but everything is okay now. Better, actually." He didn't say anything, and she laid back down after a moment, curling into his side again. "But it wasn't the same thing, with me and Tommy," she said quietly after a moment. "Not like you and Siobhan. It's a really different situation."

He stiffened a little when Jude said her name, but he didn't respond for a long time. Eventually he said, "What if it was my fault?" His voice was quiet and strained.

Jude pulled back in surprise, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. "That she cheated on you with your brother? How could that ever have been your fault? That's no one's fault but theirs, Lucas."

He looked over at her. "I know, but… I think maybe she was right. About me, about the way I treated her."

"So?" Jude raised her eyebrows. "So what if she was? That doesn't make it your fault. She said it herself, even if it's an explanation, it isn't an excuse."

"Maybe," he said with a sigh, looking back up at the ceiling. Jude lay back down on her side and watched him. After a moment he said, "Her sister Kira was eight years old when she died. She'd had leukemia when she was two or three, but when Von and I met, it had been in remission for years. Kira was a normal kid, a happy kid. Bright, funny… She never sat still, and she'd do anything to get you to laugh. And she thought Von was the sun and stars." Lucas smiled a little. "She'd brag to anyone who would listen about how her sister was the prettiest, the smartest, the best artist in the world." His smile fell. "The cancer came back when Von and I had been dating for a year and a half, just after we'd moved in together. It took her quick, not even six months from the first big nosebleed to the time she died. Nothing the doctors could do. It was in her brain. Seemed like overnight she went from running around to wasting away."

"That sounds awful," Jude said softly.

Lucas nodded, not looking at her. "It was. And it was hell on Siobhan, obviously. I tried to help, but there wasn't a lot I could do. I tried to make sure she kept eating, I tried to be a shoulder to cry on or whatever she needed, but what she needed was her sister to be well again, and no one could give her that. She quit her job around the time they moved Kira into hospice, so she could stay with her full time. I'd only been working part time before that because I was trying to concentrate on the music, but without Von taking half the rent… My mum and dad helped, of course, but I hated taking their money, so I got an extra shit job working in a shop. I all but stopped playing. I think maybe I resented her for it, deep down, but I never said anything because that would've been awful. It wasn't her fault, and she was in hell. After Kira died she couldn't get out of bed for weeks. She stopped painting, she stopped smiling. It was… horrible. I didn't know what to do, but I tried to take care of her. I loved her, you know? I loved her."

Jude reached over and took his hand, squeezing it. "It sounds like you did everything you could."

He squeezed her fingers back, but kept looking up at the ceiling. He sighed. "It got better. Me and a few of her friends managed to convince her to start seeing a counselor, and it actually helped a lot. By the time… By the next year I thought she was doing really well. She was working, she was painting, she went out… She'd been doing a lot better for a long time. I thought she was okay."

"Lucas, it really wasn't your fault. You have to see that, right? It couldn't have been your fault, what she did."

He looked at her then, frowning. "Except that part of it _was_ , Jude. I knew the date. I didn't remember on the actual day itself, but I knew the time of year. Today she said I didn't see it, that she was struggling, but she was wrong. I knew, and I ignored it. I was stressed, I'd been turned down for a few gigs, I was starting to think I'd never make it as a musician, I was still working a job I absolutely hated…" He sighed and turned his face away again, shutting his eyes. "I felt like I'd spent so long taking care of her, and I didn't want to do it anymore. That was unfair, as she'd never asked me for any of it, I'd taken it all on myself. But she was right, I _was_ cold to her. She'd try to talk to me and I would shut her out. I did that. I stayed out late, I cancelled plans with her, we argued all the time, I'd pick fights with her for no reason. And Sean always liked her. I knew that. He'd always been jealous. Maybe I did this, maybe I drove her straight into his arms."

"She made a choice," Jude said adamantly. "Lucas, she and your brother, they _chose_ to do what they did. It doesn't matter how cold you were, or what she was going through, it doesn't _matter_. She cheated on you, and that is on her, not you."

"Maybe," Lucas agreed with a sigh.

"Definitely," she insisted. "Definitely."

"It doesn't change the fact that I've had this story in my head for the last two years of how it happened, how we had a perfectly good thing going and then she betrayed me and ruined it. But that's not what happened, is it? Maybe I doomed our relationship before she did anything wrong. Maybe I'm not the only victim here."

Jude sighed. "I guess things like this are really never as simple as we want them to be." Lucas didn't respond, and Jude rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling for a long time. Eventually she said, "I don't think Tommy and I would have lasted, even if I hadn't gotten the Bermondsey offer. That was the, you know, the catalyst, but not the cause."

"Really?" Lucas asked.

"Yeah," she sighed. "I mean, I loved him. I'd been in love with him for years." Maybe it should've been weirder than it was, talking to her boyfriend about how much she'd loved her ex, but somehow she knew Lucas would understand. "Tommy and me, it was always… We were very intense, I guess, but there were always things keeping us apart. At first it was because I was too young." She sighed again. "Maybe in the end that's what it was too. He's older, six and a half years." Lucas gave a hum, but otherwise didn't say anything. Jude continued after a beat, still looking up at the ceiling. "We danced around it for years, pretending we didn't have feelings for each other, but sometimes he was practically all I thought about. I mean, like, he'd walk into a room and I would _feel_ it, you know? That intensity, that… I've never had that with anyone else. We were… it was electric. Not just the sex, but everything we ever did. Writing, playing music, he could look at me and I'd–"

"Jude," Lucas said with a laugh, cutting her off. She looked over at him. "You _do_ remember who you're talking to. Christ, I know I started it, the talk about exes, but I _am_ your boyfriend, here."

Jude winced. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that to sound… Shit, Lucas, I'm sorry. You know me, no filter."

He laughed again. "It's okay, but if you'd gone on much longer there I think my self esteem might've taken quite a hit."

"No, seriously, it's not like that." She pushed herself up into a sitting position to look at him. "This, you and me, it's… I think in some ways it's a lot better than what I had with Tommy."

Lucas sighed. "No, Jude, you don't have to–"

"I'm serious," she insisted. "Tommy and me, we didn't have this." She gestured between them. "There were a lot of good things about my relationship with him, but he never…" she sighed, trying to find the right words. "This kind of… we didn't have conversations like this, me and him. He loved me. A lot. And I loved him. But honesty? Openness? That was never his strong suit. It's one of the reasons we didn't work out. I mean, I know why it was hard for him, with some stuff he's been through, who he is, but still. That, this… It's something that's really important to me." Lucas smiled a little, and she said, "You make me happy. You do. And maybe it was just the timing, but… being with Tommy was a lot of things, and happy wasn't always one of them." She took his hand and squeezed it. "You make me happy, Lucas," she repeated, softly, and he smiled wider and squeezed her fingers back. She lay down next to him again and kissed him on the cheek before curling into his side.

After a minute, he spoke again, sounding sad. "You know, I always thought Von and I did have that."

"Have what?" she asked, her head still on his chest.

"Openness. Honesty. One of the things I loved about her was how easy it was to talk to her. She was my best friend. If you'd asked me what I liked best about being with her, that would've been my answer. We… understood each other. We could talk about anything. But now I'm wondering…" he sighed. "By the end we had lost that, and I think it was my fault."

Jude didn't object this time, just pressed her hand to his chest and softly said, "I'm sorry." He sighed again and she looked up at him. "Do you miss her?" she asked quietly.

He looked pained. "I didn't think I did. I really tried not to. But yeah, I guess. Part of me. Maybe even now. Do you miss him?"

She sighed. "Sometimes. Maybe not as much as I did at first, but… Yeah, sometimes."

They were silent for another moment before Lucas laughed. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

He meant it sarcastically, but Jude pushed herself up to look at him, putting a hand on the side of his face and saying, seriously. "Yeah. Yeah we are."

* * *

 **A/N:** I've already done too many author's notes in this one, but I just want to say: don't be upset with me for having Jude dissing the Jommy here. I think all of the things she says here are things that I address in the original story as having improved as they reconnect in Toronto. The whole point of The Long and Winding Road as a story is Jude and Tommy needing time apart in order to mature into the people they need to be to have a healthy relationship instead of the unquestionably passionate but also unquestionably screwed up relationship of the show canon, and that's what I was trying to show Jude figuring out and coming to terms with in these scenes.


	9. Lucas (6)

**A/N:** Wow, that awkward moment when I finished this almost two months ago and never posted it. _Finally_ the Lucas stuff is all finished, lol. I never expected there to be this much!

* * *

When Jude walked into the restaurant, Lucas was already seated at a table. He stood when he saw her, and she smiled. "Hey, sorry I'm so late," she said as he reached him. "Nicola's freaking out because there's possibility of venue changes in Melbourne and it's just completely crazy, and yeah, I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "No, don't worry about it. It's okay." There was something strange in his expression, she thought, but it was fleeting. He smiled at her, and held his arms out to her. "Hi."

She laughed. "Hi." She pulled him into a hug, then kissed him lightly as she pulled back, before sitting down across from him at the table. She was leaving in the morning for the final leg of her world tour, in Australia and New Zealand, and they talked about the tour plans for a while. Jude noticed again as they ate that something seemed off about Lucas tonight. He seemed distracted and nervous, and it only got worse as the meal went on. Finally she asked, "Are you okay, Lucas?"

He looked surprised. "I'm fine."

"No, seriously, what's wrong? You're acting weird."

"I'm fine," he repeated, more firmly this time, and from his insistence she knew she wasn't imagining it.

She frowned. "Lucas, come on. You can talk to me, what's up?

He sighed. "It's… Look, I'd planned to do this later, I didn't want to…"

"Do what? What are you talking about?"

He looked even more nervous now, looking down at the table and running his hands through his hair. "Okay, I've been… I've been trying to find the words to say this, I…" He sighed again, and looked back up at her. "Jude, you're… amazing."

She laughed at that, surprised. "What?"

His expression remained serious. "I mean that, Jude. You're so talented, you're strong, and funny, and beautiful. The way you love music, the way you love people, it's inspiring, how big your heart is, it's… You're amazing."

Lucas still looked nervous, but his eyes were wide and sincere. A spike of fear shot through her. "Lucas, what are you… I'm confused. What is this?" It couldn't be, she thought. It was ridiculous to even think it. He wouldn't propose to her, not _now_. They hadn't even been exclusive for long, only about four months, half of which they'd been in different countries. Over the past few weeks she'd felt like, if anything, they were growing more distant. Could it be possible that Lucas's view of their relationship was _this_ different from her own?

"Being with you," he continued, "has been so wonderful. The last few months especially. Being on tour was… I loved working with you, I love spending time with you, I've loved who I can be when I'm with you, you know? I think that's rare."

As he talked, Jude's mind was racing, frantically planning escape routes, ways she could get out of this situation without making a scene. It wasn't that he wasn't a great guy, it wasn't like she didn't enjoy spending time with him. She cared for him, honestly, deeply. She _loved_ him, at least in a way. Their relationship had been so good for her in so many ways, but could she marry him? Could she possibly be sure that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him? Panic filled her at the thought. She glanced around at the other people in the restaurant, the people who were about to witness Lucas get down on one knee and pull out a ring. There were enough of them, and enough phone cameras, that she was pretty sure the story would break within the hour. If she said no, rejected him in front of everyone, the media fallout might be horrible, not to mention the undeserved pain it would cause Lucas, on top of the pain of a rejection. She could give a public yes and then rescind it later in private, except that that wasn't any better, unless she could somehow come up with an excuse to the media about the proposal being faked… But no, that would never work. She would just have to stop him right now, keep from kneeling, stop him from making a public display of the question by asking him to hold off on the conversation until they were in private, where maybe she could let him down a little bit easier. She felt sick. "Lucas, wait–" she started, but he cut her off.

"Please, Jude, I'm sorry, I just need to get this out, alright? I've been trying to find a way to do this for a while, I… I care for you. I love you, I do, you're truly amazing, and I'm so grateful for our relationship, all of it, even the difficult parts."

"Lucas, please–" Jude started. She had to stop this before it got out of hand.

"But I'm not in love with you."

"can we hit pause for a–" she cut off in surprise when she registered what he'd said. "Wait, what?"

"I'm so sorry," he said, looking deeply sad. "It's not that I'm unhappy, it's just that… well… I care for you, I think you're brilliant, but I'm not _in love_ with you."

"Whoa, wait, Lucas, are you breaking up with me? Is that what this is?"

He nodded, saying again, "I'm so sorry."

Jude laughed, a short, astonished sound. "You're not in love with me, you want to break up." She laughed again, then another laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the giggling. "Oh my god, you can't be serious. I thought… Jesus, Lucas, I thought you were about to propose."

"Oh, God." Lucas looked devastated. "Jude, the last thing I want is to hurt you. I'm so, so sorry, this isn't–"

"Lucas," she laughed, cutting him off, "I'm not in love with you either, okay?"

"I… you… what?" He frowned, looking confused.

"It's like you said, I guess. I'm not unhappy, I care about you, but… yeah, no, I wouldn't honestly be able to say I'm _in love_ with you."

"But you thought…"

"Uh, yeah, and I was freaking the fuck out." She laughed again, putting her head in her hands for a second. "Jesus, I need a drink after that." Lucas still looked confused when she looked back up at him, and she smiled. "Come on, dude, you invite me to this nice place, you look nervous as hell the whole meal, you say you've been planning to do something, and then you start saying all this stuff about how amazing I am and how you're so grateful to be with me, so, uh, yeah, Lucas, proposal is where my mind went."

"But you're not… upset?"

Jude shrugged a little. "I mean… not really. Definitely not that you didn't propose, that's pretty much the biggest relief ever, but about the fact that you're breaking up with me? I guess I'm sort of confused, but I'm not, like, heartbroken, or anything." She frowned a little. "Just… why now? Did something change?" She raised her eyebrows. "Is there someone else?"

"No," he said quickly. "No one else."

"I'd understand if there was, Lucas. I've been gone a lot, if you met someone, I'd understand."

"I haven't done, promise. No one else."

"Then I don't really get it. I mean, the part about you not being in love with me, sure, I guess I get that, but like… Were you in love and then something changed recently to mean you're not anymore?"

He looked sad again. "I'm not… I don't know if that's ever really what this was. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "That's okay. I don't know if it was for me either, I guess? I mean, who knows where that line is, really? I care about you, a lot, and our relationship has been good for me in a lot of ways, but is that really love? I don't know. I guess I haven't thought about it that much."

"So this is mutual?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Sure." She shrugged again. "I mean, I don't want to like, lose you as a friend, and I guess it became pretty obvious to me just now that I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you or anything, so… Sure, mutual. Like I said, I'm not heartbroken or anything, just confused. You're really sure there's no one else?"

"Yes."

"I don't mean like, you've been cheating on me with someone else, I just mean, like, did you meet someone? Do you have a thing for someone? Is it someone at work?"

"Jude," he said, firmly, "there's no one."

"So you just… suddenly decided you wanted to be with someone you're, like, truly in love with or whatever?"

"Not _suddenly_."

Jude raised her eyebrows. "So you have been unhappy."

"No. Not _unhappy_ , Jude. You don't make me _unhappy_ , I just… I don't know, I've been talking a bit to Von these past couple of months and–"

"You're getting back together with _Siobhan_?" Jude exclaimed, incredulous.

"No!" he insisted, looking taken aback. "No, no. After… No, that's not happening. I'm so different to the person I was with her, anyway, it would never… No. But talking to her has made me sort of remember that, I guess? She and I… I mean, we weren't right, obviously, in the end, but we did have something. Something that I… I think I miss? It's nothing wrong with you, you're wonderful, but…"

Jude sighed, the image of Tommy springing to her mind for a moment, of the swooping, fluttering, electric sensation in her chest when he so much as walked into a room. "Sure," she said softly. "Sure, yeah, I get that." She bit her lip for a moment, looking down at the table, then looked back up at him. "Friends, though?"

A relieved smile spread across his face. "Yeah. I'd like that."

They sat in semi-awkward silence for a minute before Jude said, "So now that I'm sure there aren't going to be any rings in it, should we order dessert?"

Lucas laughed. "Fuckin' hell, I can't believe you actually thought I was asking you to marry me."

"Uh, yeah. I mean, I know I'm amazing, but usually when people go on and on about it, they're building to something."

"Well, I suppose I _was_ sort of building to something…"

She laughed. "Only you could make a breakup seem like a marriage proposal. Jesus, Lucas."

"I wanted you to know it was nothing personal!" he protested, "I wanted you to know it's not that I haven't enjoyed being with you."

"You could've at least thrown in a quick 'it's not you, it's me' so I knew what was going on!" she said, and he laughed.

When they had finished their meal, Lucas walked with her to her car, and she slipped her arms around his waist. He hugged her back tightly. When she pulled back, she put a hand on the side of his face and softly said, "Hey, thank you. For everything."

… ... … ... …

"Jude!"

Jude turned at the sound her name, called from down the hall, and smiled when she saw Lucas walking towards her. "Hey!" When he reached her she pulled him into a hug. "It's good to see you!" she exclaimed when she pulled back.

"You too! You're looking very tan."

She laughed. "Only an Irishman would think this is a tan. But yeah, Australia has this thing called the sun? Don't know if you're familiar with the concept."

He shook his head in mock bewilderment. "No, never heard of that." Jude laughed again and Lucas smiled. "So, you're all done with tour, then."

"Yeah, it's sort of surreal. I'm going to miss it. I'm so ready to take a break, though. I'm exhausted."

"You deserve one. How long are they giving you? Is that the meeting you've just come from?" he gestured down the hall behind her to the offices she'd just left.

"Yeah. And uh… actually it's sort of indefinite at this point, in terms of how long before I start another album or whatever. But, uh, well, there's more to it than that, because my contract is also up."

His eyes widened. "Surely they're keeping you on!"

"Oh, yeah, they are. I mean, they offered a new contract to me, and I have six weeks to renegotiate it or rethink or whatever before I have to sign."

He smiled. "Good. But of course they wouldn't want to lose you, not with the tour's success."

"Yeah." She nodded. "I haven't had a chance to really look over the contract yet, obviously, but at a glance it looks good, probably better than what I had. And this time would be for five years instead of one album, so it's a longer term thing too." She ran a hand through her hair. "It's good. It'll be good."

She sounded unconvinced, though she tried to hide it, and Lucas frowned. "You're thinking about not signing."

"What?" she asked, surprised. She actually _had_ been thinking about not signing, or, more accurately, had been trying _not_ to think it, but how had he possibly known that? "What makes you say that?"

"Because I know you. I'm right, aren't I?"

"I… I don't know. I…" Lucas raised his eyebrows at her and she sighed. "Okay, yeah. The thought crossed my mind."

He looked at her for a moment, studying her face, then gestured down the hall with his head and said, "Come on." She almost protested, but he said, "Come on," again, more softly, and reached out and gently grabbed her hand, leading her to one of the empty studios. He let go of her hand as they walked in, and he sat down in one of the chairs behind the sound board, gesturing to the other. She sat next to him with another sigh, and he said, gently, "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"Nothing's _going on_ , Lucas, I'm just… I don't know, maybe I'm just tired. I mean, I am tired, I'm exhausted. I think I just need a break. It's fine, it's not a big deal."

"It seems sort of big, Jude, if you're thinking about leaving. Are you not happy at Bermondsey?"

"I'm… Bermondsey is fine." He raised his eyebrows at her and she sighed again. "I don't know, Lucas. I don't know what to tell you. Really, I'm probably just tired. Burned out, you know, from tour. It's not that I don't like it here, I've just been feeling… disconnected, you know? Not alone, not lonely, just… like something is missing. Some part of me." She looked down at her hands. "I guess that's been true for a long time."

"How long is long?" His voice was gentle, but he sounded more concerned now.

She looked up at him. "Maybe since I came to London." His eyebrows shot up, but he otherwise controlled his reaction. She bit her lip, watching his face for a moment, then said, "It was better, for a while, especially while we were together. Honestly, I'm not unhappy, I just…" she sighed and looked down again, trailing off.

"You haven't found what you were looking for, when you chose to take the offer here at Bermondsey?"

Jude thought about that for a moment, then shook her head. "I think maybe it's more that I _did_ find it."

"I'm not sure what that means," Lucas admitted.

"I guess it means that what I wanted when I left Toronto was to be on my own. I wanted to figure my own shit out, to live alone, to live the wild rockstar life, to… To leave home. I left the things and the people that kept me grounded, and I did that for a reason."

"I thought you'd sort of found that, though, the… groundedness. The balance. I thought you were doing a lot better."

She nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I am, for sure. I've learned a lot, and I don't regret it, and I'm not unhappy, but…"

"Something is still missing," he finished softly.

"Yeah." She sighed again. "I don't know, Lucas, maybe I'm being stupid. Maybe I'm searching for something that doesn't exist. Maybe what I need to do is learn how to be content with what I have here. The grass is always greener, you know? I probably just need to get over myself."

"Darling, if something feels off, then I think you ought to listen to that instinct, not bury it. Trying to bury your dissatisfaction is a path to disaster, I know from experience."

Jude gave a hum, biting her lip. "I don't know." She shut her eyes for a moment. "It's in my music, too," she murmured. "I've lost something there, in my writing. There's some kind of a voice I can't find. It's like it's just out of reach, this intangible sort of…"

"Then why don't you go looking for it?"

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Go _where_?" she asked, incredulous. "A new label?"

"No, not necessarily, no need to be rash. I just mean that you've got some time off, your first in a while. You're not bound to London, at least not for the next six weeks."

She shook her head. "I've _been_ traveling, Lucas. For almost a year now. I should want to stay put for a while, I should want to be here. It shouldn't be possible to be this tired and this… restless at the same time."

"Maybe you should go somewhere and then stay put for a while," he suggested. "Take the time away from everything to relax, to write, to reconnect to the music."

"Like where?" Jude laughed. "Some tropical island or something? Some resort where there's nothing to do but sit on the beach? I'd make it two days before I'd be bored out of my mind."

Lucas thought for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "What about retracing your steps? If there's something you feel you've lost, maybe you should go to the last place you had it." He raised his eyebrows at her, giving her a meaningful look.

"You mean go home?" she asked, surprised. "Go back to Toronto?"

He laughed. "Well, love, you've just referred to it as 'home,' I think maybe that says something."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "I don't… Huh." She thought, suddenly, of Tommy's words to her on the phone. _Lock yourself away and write until you can find your truth again_. She sat there for a moment, silent, thinking. "I guess you're right."

When she looked back up, Lucas said, "I'll miss you, Jude."

"Oh, uh, I guess I'll miss you too." She shrugged. "But even if I left tonight, it'd only be six weeks and then I'll be back."

He gave her a wry smile, like he knew something she didn't. "Sure you will."

She frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He laughed. "No reason at all." He stood up. "Well, hey, I've got a session, but if you're leaving, let me know when. We'd better get a drink before you go."

She nodded. "Yeah, for sure."

Lucas turned to leave, glancing over at her as he exited the room. "Oh, and say hi to Tom Quincy for me," he said with a smirk.

"What? Why would I…" she started to protest, but he was already halfway down the hall.


	10. Four: Relapse

**A/N:** ohai. Remember this story? I should be working on biochemistry, but then inspiration became a thing. Fitting, seeing as I wrote the entirety of the original story in just over two weeks instead of studying for my organic chemistry final. This is set immediately after chapter 3.

* * *

He almost doesn't make it home. He's in no state to drive, way past too drunk and too flustered and too out of it to drive safely, and he knows it, but the thought of leaving his car behind at this fucking club and having to come back in the morning, face it all again in the light of day… In the end he can't do it. He's parked a couple blocks away, downtown parking still being a nightmare even at nearly one in the morning, and he uses the walk to try and clear his head. It's raining a little, a slight drizzle that's cold on his face, but he tilts his head up towards the sky and lets the droplets hit him, wishing for a moment that it would start raining harder, a downpour that could wash this fucking night away, wash _him_ away.

He's not stumbling or staggering. He tries and finds he can even walk a pretty straight line, which is good. He feels more sober and alert in the cold night air. He knows he's using that as an excuse to justify a truly bad decision, but he's already made so many of those tonight, why stop at one more? He's fighting the image of Jude's eyes, wide and teary and full of shocked, betrayed pain, and he's fighting the memory of her body pressed against his and her husky voice in his ear moaning "I want you." He shivers a little, feels himself twitch. It's better outside, in the cool and the rain and away from the music and the people, but he's still all keyed up and tense and half-hard and he _cannot_ afford to think about Jude, not if he wants to make it home without killing himself or someone else on the road. He takes a deep breath as he approaches his car, shakes out his hands and mutters, "You're okay, Tom," to himself as he walks around to the driver's side. He fumbles the keys as he takes them out of his pocket, dropping them on the asphalt, and picks them up quickly, trying to act as nonchalant as possible and pretend nothing happened, even though no one else is around.

By dumb luck or some kind of miracle, he makes it home without incident. He's not thinking about Jude anymore, not exactly, but he's definitely thinking about _not_ thinking about her, which is almost as bad. He can feel the memories and the emotions pounding at the walls in his head, and he knows they're going to crash back in on him soon enough. He must seriously look like shit, because the guy behind the security desk in the lobby of his building asks him if he's alright. Tommy just waves a hand and makes a vague noise as he walks past in the direction of the elevators.

He leans back against the wall of the elevator with a sigh. As the elevator doors slide closed, he gets a flash of a memory. Jude, 18, stepping into this elevator with him and practically launching herself at him as soon as the doors shut. He can feel her lips for a moment, her soft blonde hair in his fingers. He can still picture the flush that crept up her neck after the doors had opened to reveal a distinguished-looking older couple. They sprung apart and Jude spent the rest of the elevator ride looking down at the floor in embarrassment while Tommy tried to repress his laughter. After that, when they got into an elevator alone, he would try to kiss her and she'd object for a second and then give in, but she'd keep her eyes on the doors as he kissed her neck.

He hisses a curse and slams his hand back against the wall of the elevator, snapping himself out of the memory. This _cannot_ be happening again. For a pathetically long time after Jude left, every corner of his life would bring up memories of her. At the studio, at home, walking through the goddamn streets of Toronto, his brain could tie anything and everything he saw back to memories of Jude. He even seriously considered moving, despite how much he loves his current apartment, just to escape the ghost of her in his bed every night. Slowly, though, it improved, until he could go weeks without thinking of her, until only very specific things—hearing one of her songs on the radio, finding one of her guitar picks mixed in with his, folded sheets of lyrics she'd tucked into some of his notebooks—made it impossible to avoid remembering her. He was even able to work, after a few months, to sit in the studio and not imagine her next to him at the board or smiling him from behind the glass.

He's been doing so _well,_ lately, but after tonight he can tell he's about to relapse. Hard. As he unlocks the door and steps into his apartment, she's all over. He's battling memories of eating breakfast and arguing over lyrics and making love to her, all interspersed with her jet black wig and her hurt eyes and the heat emanating from her body as she rubbed against him. He tries to block it out and walks to his liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle and pouring himself a glass of something he barely glances at before downing it in four swift gulps.

He could've said yes. He probably could've even brought her back here. Sure, she was high, and maybe she wasn't his Jude anymore, and yeah, it would've only been one night and then she'd have left all over again, but it would have been one more night than he's ever going to get otherwise. One more night with the love of his life. He pictures her here right now, imagines peeling off that tight dress, pulling her to his bedroom, but the fantasy keeps getting mixed up with memories of the Jude from two years ago, of the Jude that was his girlfriend, the one he was naïve enough to believe he'd spend the rest of his life with.

It would have been awkward and painful. She'd have woken up hungover in the morning, then left and torn out his heart all over again, but maybe it would still have been worth it for one more night of her in his arms. He thinks of her voice on the phone whispering "I still love you," then slams the door shut on that thought as hard as he can. He's all kinds of pathetic, but even he won't let himself go that far, far enough to hope that if he hadn't screwed up tonight then she'd be here now telling him she loves him, that she'd ever leave behind her life in London to be with him. He hesitates with the bottle in his hand, but stops himself before he can have another glass, because it isn't going to help anyway. If anything, more alcohol will just keep him from being able to put up any of the walls in his head. He could drink enough to put him to sleep, but she'd surely be there, too, in his dreams.

So he puts the bottle back and heads for the shower, trying to think of work, of Mikala, of _anything_ other than Jude as he strips off his clothes and turns on the water. Another memory—is it a memory? Maybe just an old, well-worn fantasy—of fucking her in this shower, her body pressed up against the wall, his hands on slick skin, water dripping from her hair, droplets in her eyelashes. He can picture her face, her eyes rolling back in her head, jaw slack as he thrusts into her.

 _Fuck._ This is getting truly out of hand, now, and the more he tries to push it away the worse it gets. At this rate he'll never get to sleep, he'll stay amped up like this and toss and turn for hours in the grip of something on the border between dreaming and memory. There's nothing he can do about the hole in his chest, the fact that he's lost her, but there might be something he can do for the rest of it, for the physical tension if nothing else. His body is desperate for release, for fulfillment of the promises Jude's hips were making on that dance floor. So he leans into it, the fantasy, sharp hipbones and long legs and small, round breasts and his name a breathless moan from her perfect lips. He just wants to get off, finish fast so he can get it over with, but her dilated eyes are there, teary and betrayed, and she's pressing a last kiss to his cheek before she walks out on stage to beak his heart, and it's not _working_ so he goes deeper, simultaneously indulges an old repressed fantasy and an even older self-loathing. She's got dyed red hair and a short skirt and eyes full of self-doubt. She's admitting to him that she's never had a real kiss before, and then he's pulling her to him and kissing her hard and it doesn't matter that she's not even sixteen. Dark red hair in his fist and bright red lips wrapped around his cock as he fucks her pretty mouth.

He comes with a groan, so hard his vision goes grey for a second, then leans both hands and his forehead against the slate wall of the shower, letting the water run over his back as his breathing returns to normal, his muscles relax, and the hollow ache slowly fills him up. He turns the water as hot as it will go, hot enough to hurt, and he stands under it for as long as he can tolerate, then turns the tap all the way to cold and only turns it off when his teeth are chattering.

When he goes to step out of the shower, he notices a purple razor sitting on one of his soap dishes, and some sort of fruity scented body wash next to his shampoo. He frowns. They can only be Mikala's, but when the fuck did this happen? He glances over and confirms his fuzzy memory that she's got a toothbrush sitting next to his on the counter by the sink. Now that he thinks about it, he can recall at least four other things of hers he knows for sure are in his apartment, and have been for a while. He thinks of her casual use of the word "girlfriend" to describe herself and wonders now if it was calculated. Has she been moving herself in? Not just into his apartment, but into his life? Has he been letting her? He thinks of Jude's face, backstage of the concert, the sick, stricken expression she tried to hide when Mikala kissed him, called herself his girlfriend, and he wonders again what she feels for him. _I still love you_ …

But no. He stops that thought cold again, because he can't afford to believe she loves him. Even if she does, he can't afford to believe that means anything for their future. As he's thinking this, he trips over a pair of Mikala's shoes in the corner of his bedroom and kicks them away with a surge of disgust. How dare she? How dare this woman try and push her way into his life? The thought is deeply unfair, probably truly awful, but he doesn't care. He's disgusted by the thought of her, furious at how far he's let this go. She's trying to encroach on a space meant only for Jude, and he hates her for it. He doesn't think about how Mikala is funny and sweet and dead gorgeous, doesn't even try to remember how good the sex is, he just thinks about how she isn't Jude. What does it matter that Jude is gone? So what if it's been over a year? He doesn't _want_ to move on, doesn't want to replace her. He never wants to love again, never wants to fill this hole, he just wants to stay here in his apartment and wallow in memory and fantasy. He'll fill the spaces she left behind with ghosts of her, and that way she won't really be lost.

He stumbles as he tries to pull on a pair of boxers, and he hits his back on the corner of his dresser. It'll be a hell of a bruise in the morning, but for now he barely notices. Alcohol and fatigue and emotion have turned his brain into soup and are slowly doing the same to his body. He basically falls into bed, and as he does he decides he'll break up with Mikala in the morning. As he succumbs to exhaustion and sleep starts to pull him under, he wonders if he'll break her heart. He thinks of Jude's hurt eyes and wonders if he's broken hers.

He wonders if his will ever be whole again.


End file.
